


One In The Same: Beautiful Stranger

by julesharper



Category: Marvel, Norse Mythology
Genre: Algronari, Angst, Eventually there will be NC17 stuff and when that time comes I will tag appropriately, F/M, Jötunheimr | Jotunheim, Miðgarðr | Midgard, Stryka, Suicide Attempt, Trinllet, Ásgarðr | Asgard (realm)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-29
Updated: 2013-11-21
Packaged: 2017-12-25 00:59:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 110,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/946776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/julesharper/pseuds/julesharper
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Loki Odinson has a compelling belief that he and Jules Harper are spiritually inseparable. Prior to her transformation, she and Bruce Banner fall in love. Odin later forces Jules to reside on Asgard, to keep a close eye on her, for he sensed danger in her. A deep jealousy and fight ensues between Bruce and Loki to win her heart. As Jules seeks the answers to her true nature and the burden which lies within, she discovers it comes with a hefty price of revenge, murder, and a whole lot of pain.<br/>"Love will become your headstone and lay over your pathetic body, if you so choose it." - Algronari Warrior's Code of Ethics</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The idea of Jules Harper came to me in High School of 1985. At the time, I wanted to write her into Greek Mythology, but I was too afraid my work would be found and read by my parents or sibling.  
> After five years of prescription medication for depression, I decided to put the poison to rest. As my creativity returned, so did my character idea, along with a flurry of story ideas. I could not resist the strong drive to write. I began writing early February of 2013 and continue to do so. I choose to use the Norse mythological characters, as well as several Marvel favorites, to help get my story idea flowing. Considering this was my first attempt to write, I wanted to cheat a bit with existing characters.  
> As the story progresses, you will encounter a lot of personally created characters and worlds. My Norse Gods do not dress like the Marvel characters and Loki also does not wear a horned helmet until the second book, which I am currently brainstorming.  
> The first book is 90% complete, minus fixing a lot of 'stupid'. I hope you'll enjoy my AU Loki and crew as much as I do.

**A Synopsis**

Jules Harper.  
Age 32.  
Born to Human parents.  
Shy, independent, and terribly stubborn.  
Thrives on clear gummy bears dipped in white chocolate, sushi, music, honesty, truth, and revenge.  
Gifted in flight, invisibility, and shield of protection.  
A strong healer and an Empath.  
Reborn to Stryka DNA and an Asgardian soul.  
Warrior, sorcerer, and a soul eater.  
Feared by most Aesirians. Loved by few.  
Will drop everything to save a defenseless race from harm and destruction.

  
**The main characters in the story are as follows**

Tony Stark: Inventor. Millionaire. Computer hacker. Married. Smart ass. Close friend to Jules and Bruce. Works for no one.  
Laura Stark: Married to Tony. Loyal. Bright. Open-minded.  
Bruce Banner: Doctor. Physicist. Bachelor. Shy. Funny. Tony's best friend. Crazy in love for Jules.  
Michael Wavell, aka Moose: Head Director/Commander of BlackOps-Discovery. Jackass killer.  
Migizi O'Hara: Assassin. Mentalist. Partially bionic and immortal. One of BlackOps so-called "Super Soldiers". Works under the direction of Commander Wavell.  
Rachel: Trusted friend of Stark. Works for BlackOps-Discovery. Thor's Midgardian "friend with benefits".  
Sif: Goddess of War. Hard-headed. A-type personality. Lacks humor. Thor's former flame. Overseer of Algronari.  
Maye: Asgardian assistant/mentor/savior to Jules.  
Odin: Aesirian, All-Father, King of Asgard. Egocentric. Loves all his children. Favors Thor. Distrusts Jules and sees her as a danger to Asgard and Midgard.  
Frigga: Loving wife to Odin. Loves her children, but favors Loki.  
Heimdall: Gatekeeper. Psychic. Does not share Odin's view of Jules.  
Loki: 3/4 Jotunn, 1/4 Stryka. Adopted son to Odin and Frigga. Sorcerer. Inventor of weapons. Lead Engineer of Asgard's Foundry. Workaholic. Infatuated with Jules.  
Thor: Oldest and favored son to Odin. Loyal. Honest. Dry sense of humor. Hard-headed. Enjoys picking a fight with Jules.  
Duur: Ancient Elder of Trinllet. Jules' lifesaver and trusted friend.  
Chie: Daughter to Jules and Bruce. A spitting image to her father. A strong Empath, like her mother.  
Voldar: Emperor and High Elder of Stryka. Devourer of Worlds. Empowers the Strykor stone within Jules.  
Taetus: King of Jotunn-le. Narcissist. Rapist. Murderer. Also Loki Odinson's half-brother.


	2. The Beginning

I've always believed I was born with a greater purpose, which no one with a normal imagination could summon. The itch to yearn the truth hurt so bad, I tried to end my life countless of times. Madness. Sometimes it was delicious. Often, it hurt like Hell.

I never felt I belonged anywhere or to anyone. I've always felt like a castaway, stuck in a land of dim wits and hoggish flesh. As far back as the age of three, I can recall my first love of people watching. My parents checked us into a hotel for the day, and I spent the better half of my afternoon standing on the second floor, alongside the spiral staircase. With my legs slung over and hands gripping the banister, I watched the bustle of people coming and going thru the lobby. I was fascinated with the dynamics of behaviors and vocals given at the front desk. I was three years old, mind you.

When I was five, I often played alone in the backyard of our home and preferably so. When other children were present, I watched from afar, studying the dynamics of attempted sharing of toys to many verbal fights. On rare occasions, I would join in. The play was often short lived, for I could never find a common ground and the children would brush me off like a castaway. Most of my days were along the bottom edge of the one hundred and twenty foot tall cliff, investigating the plant life, picking up rocks and bleached sea shells, and examining the stone which made the sheer hill. I became completely engrossed in Geology, wanting to know more about what I stood on, what made up that vertical rock, and why dead sea life lay scattered so far from the water's edge. Is this normal for a five year old?

At the age of seven, we moved away and once again I followed the local pack of kids, mostly boys, where ever their feet took them. Into the wild bamboo forests we often walked, traversing along the edge of the forty foot tall cliff in search of small lizards, snakes, and random bamboo sticks to fight each other with. Heights and critters didn't faze me, for I feared nothing. One day, a local boy ran up to me with a common Japanese lizard the size of his hand. I kept my ground and allowed him to approach, fearing nothing of him. He put the lizard into my face, yelled obscenities to frighten me, and I only smiled at the critter and reached to pet him. The boy mocked me, had his friends outcast me from the group, and I never spent time with them again. Once more, I became a castaway, banished to my own little island of loneliness. I didn't make any friends my next few years, but that was out of intent for I couldn't relate to any child. Clearly, something was wrong with me. This can't be normal for a seven year old.

My life took a turn for the bizarre at the age of nine. It was a Saturday morning, and I set foot into the neighborhood with a two dollar bill in my pocket. I came to a neighborhood yard sale four blocks away. I browsed with my shy eyes to what the seven families had to offer. An old woman sat upon a large dark blue blanket. Upon the blanket were many pieces of costume jewelry and random nick nacks. Nothing caught my attention and I walked away. She yelled at me.  
"Young lady!"  
I stopped and turned around, just out of curiosity to whom the lady was yelling at. She looked at me dead and square.  
"Young lady? You should have this.", waving something into the air in her left fist.  
I approached her to see what it was she insisted I should have. Her eyes were so serious, they pierced me like daggers. I stopped short, and with her right hand she motioned me to come close. So, I did. Within her left hand was a small smooth light blue rock and motioned for me to take it.  
"The heavens sought and foretold thee to carry the burden.", she said with a hard smile, showing too much of her dirty teeth.  
She placed the stone into my right hand, and I looked at this so-called stone. It was very light and I questioned its true form. I believed it to be a fake. A piece of melted plastic. A toy.  
"Okay?", I responded upon taking the stone.  
I found this to be a joke. She knew I did not take her seriously and became infuriated. She stood up at a very unnatural speed and yelled at the top of her lungs at me.  
"NEVER thy eyes to leave its sight! Thou MUST carry the stone, EVERYDAY! Thee understands what the heavens are sharing!?"  
She scared me to death and appeared more like a witch to me than an aged woman. I shook my head in agreement, nodding 'yes' and shared no words, other than my expression of a terrified little girl. She sat back down upon the blue blanket and returned to her earlier self of calm and collected, paying no attention to me. I slowly backed away, taking notice that NO ONE around me even flinched at her behavior, and took off running for home with the stone in my right fist. I followed her directions and kept the stone on me since that very day. I had a small sachet I used for my semi-precious stone collection and carried it within, in my pant pocket, coat pocket, or any pocket on my person. Since that very day, I never wore clothing without pockets. In high school, I discovered a means to wear it around my neck by wrapping it in scrap copper wiring. In college, I had it professionally placed into a pendant. That was when I discovered the stone was in fact real. What type of stone it was, the Jeweler only guessed it was aquamarine, but he really wasn't positive.

When I was ten, I made my first friend. Her name was Cora, and she was just as shy. We spent much of our time walking the neighborhood endlessly, talking nonsense, discussing our favorite cartoon subjects, and watching the local boys from afar. Then? Two years later, her family moved away, and I was back to square one. Friendships did come easier, yet compared to the average early teenager, I had very few to lean on. I spent many of my days alone. On fair weather days, I spent them outdoors in the bamboo trails or sitting in my favorite tree twenty feet up. I enjoyed my independence and time alone. At my age, every girl I knew in school often complained of boyfriend issues, misery of relationships, parental problems, and bitching of their hair or wardrobe. I simply wanted none of it. My better days were spent alone, in a makeshift fort within the thick bamboo forest. Cardboard settled on the ground made for a great place to lie down and watch the clouds dance by. Hours on end, I would see them motion on by and shape shift their bodies. Hours on end, I would daydream.  
"Who am I?"  
"Why am I here?"  
"Who brought me to this World?"  
"Who really made me?"  
"Who are my real parents?"  
I was only ten years old, when I began questioning my life. Ten, mind you. No way is this normal behavior.

I look just like my parents. There is no doubt they created me. Yet, deep inside, I felt there was more to the story of my existence. Life never seemed to add up. The solution had too many missing variables. This was a lot for a ten year old to think about, let alone dwell over, on a daily basis. Many cloudless and moonless nights, I stood in the backyard and leaned into the four foot chain link fence. Facing the starry skies, I would search the twinkle of multicolored lights for my answers. One night, I found a cluster of seven stars and felt mesmerized. I discovered the Pleiades, the seven sisters, but they didn't answer my questions of _'who, what, when, where, or why'_. It only confirmed that I most likely come from other than this World. A part of me is from somewhere else. But where?

My life was similar in high school. On most days, when the sky did not cry, I hiked the tundra alone for my answers. I investigated old WWII quonset huts, locked ammo storage bunkers, and walked miles of gravel roads alone. I collected plant life, rocks, animal bones, and followed the hoof prints of the caribou until I lost sight of its tracks. Hours were spent on a small sandy beach, just five minutes from my house. I named it 'Prince Beach', for I wished a Prince would walk out of the cold Pacific waters, hold me close, and comfort me of my life's questions. I never did get my answers. I was fourteen years old, then.

At fifteen, my mind began to wander off in class in such a fashion I stopped paying attention and my note taking ceased. My grades fell, yet I cared less. I was a hopeless basket case and a cast out from the social buzz of the birds and the bees finding their flowers and trees. My fight for answers to my existence blended into my reality and took over control of self. Where I once was in control of my frustrations, it now overflowed the basin. The rubber washer, holding back my desires of 'knowing', is now worn down and cracked from years of abuse. Frustration leaked away to the point I no longer could cup it out. I tried meditation, which only worked when I had the prime opportunity. On many days, I would stick around after school and sneak into the pitch dark gymnasium. With my Walkman aside, I lay upon my back on the center of the court and daydream with my eyes open. I looked into the darkness to find no probable answers. I only dreamed of myself, dressed in knightly garb, riding on a horse on a world unlike Earth. I appeared to be a determined and fearless Warrior. A fierce and stern look upon my face was always clear. Often, my dream would end with her looking directly into my eyes. She was telling me something, yet I received no message.  
 _'Who was she? What was her message? Why was she here?'_

At sixteen, depression had sunk in deep. My questions continued to go unanswered and I lost hope of ever knowing who my true self was. For the past three years, I would stay up late on school nights and listen to the local radio station's top forty mix. I heavily daydreamed of my possibilities: alien, princess, monster, space knight…. I averaged three hours of sleep. No doubt, it was the reason for my frequent daydreaming in classes and my dropping grades. I began to dream heavily of flight and armored men in black fatigues, chasing me as I flew away from them. They sought my capture to use my gift for their own. I always woke up in sweat and exhausted as if I just ran several laps. Never were my dreams of flight any good, with the exception I was never caught.

I began to wander the tundra often, even in the wind and rain. I was emphatically desperate. I spoke to the eagles and ravens. I spoke to the curious sea gulls. I even spoke to the resident sea otter, Fred. My comfort among the animals was short lived. When the weather was foul, I rode the public bus for hours alone and watched the people come and go. In circles, the bus repeated its route. In circles, my mind wandered. I kept walking into the same old question: _'Who am I?'_  
I felt like a crazed dog, chasing its tail. The lack of sleep already making me dizzy, I craved and begged for an end to the madness. Chasing my question of existence did not help. Walking into a brick wall, over and over, only bruised my conscience. I completely lost control of self.

The one hundred and twenty foot cliff, just behind the house I once lived in when I was five, often came into my daydream. I saw myself standing upon the edge, looking down at the open valley of homes below. Spreading out my arms, I would jump off, fall twenty feet with grace, and take off in flight. I dreamt this in class. I dreamt this on the bus. I dreamt this at the dinner table. It was on replay, everyday, for months on end. I was loosing my mind.

Sixteen years old. Sixteen years too young. The lack of answers to my every question of self brought me to NORPAC Hill. The daily mental beatings for answers, since the age of ten, forced me to stand at the edge. Frustration. Lack of hope. Sleepless nights. My dreams and reality now one. All questions led me to stand upon the one hundred and twenty foot tall cliff at 2am. 42 Fahrenheit and a low ceiling, all I can hear is the battering of salt water upon the rocky shore to my left and the whistle of steady wind in my right ear. The misty headwind felt nice, cooling my raging madness within my Goddamned skull. One last time, I asked my questions out loud for the Gods and Humanity to hear:  
"Who am I?"  
"Why am I here?"  
"Who brought me to this World?"  
"Who really made me?"  
"Who are my real parents?"  
Just like in my daily dreams of flight from NORPAC Hill, I jumped from the ledge. I expected to fly after twenty feet, but my rate of fall increased. I was not flying! My body descends with my belly reaching for ground. Panic ensues. My heart erupts and the blood red lava races thru the highway of life with a terrifying scorching heat. I felt as if I was burning alive! I screamed.  
"I don't want to die!!!"  
Just as I believed I would kiss the ground goodbye, I tightened every muscle in my body, held my breath, and shut my eyes hard. I waited. And waited. But …nothing happens. I assumed my impact was so damaging, I experienced no pain and therefore missed out on the final closing chapter of my life. I slowly opened my eyes, only to see a dark rocky and sandy ground three feet below. I gasped for air and hyperventilated, yet I stay as still as I could. I could not understand what I was looking at. Was it the ground? Was I buried six feet deep? Slowly, I raised my head and saw the duplex I once lived in at the age of five. I was floating three feet above the ground and held steady. Panic flowed thru me once more. I thrashed my arms about and finally reached below, grabbing rocks and sand in fists.  
"What is happening to me!?", I whispered in my cries.  
I remain frozen in time. Tears dripped from my eyes and fell upon the sand below.  
"Drop! Lower! Fall! …. Something!", I quietly hollered.  
I dropped with a thud, falling upon my left arm and spraining my left wrist badly. In the fetal position I shook, for all my energy was depleted from the adrenaline rush. Quietly, I sobbed in fear for a full damned hour. Another question approached me and added to the queue: _'Why did I not die?'_   Once my strength returned, I walked to the beach and leaned back against a cluster of reed grass. The rhythmic battering of waves put me into a trance. Confused, lost, and alone in tears, I fell asleep.

I ditched school the next day. I spent most of my time on the beach, huddled against the same patch of reed grass. Beach combers came and went, never questioning the presence of a young teen out of school. My left wrist was swollen twice its size and hot to the touch. With my right hand, I gently held it in place and frowned upon the sea. I watched the waves come to and fro, teasing to touch me and then leave …yearning the rush of the Pacific to capture me and pull me in. I'm not supposed to smell the salt and rank decay of fish. I shouldn't see such beauty of snow covered mountains across the bay. The winds should not whisper into my ears.  
 _'Why am I still breathing? Thinking? Seeing?'_  
I cursed the Gods something fierce, that day. I should be dead. I recall looking at my left wrist and found my swelling all but gone. My eyes grew large, as I easily flexed my fingers.  
"What the hell?"  
I somehow healed myself.  
"Why? Why me?!", I cried into the wind.  
Not a soul hears me. Not even the local ravens, whom are often nearby out of curiosity. The thick overcast prevented me from telling the actual time. Based on my angry stomach, it was well past noon. I rode the public bus home and entered a house full of blistering words of disapproval. My absence didn't go unnoticed. I was grounded for three months.  
Homebound, with the exception of school, didn't faze me. It gave me plenty of time to further discover my newfound abilities. With my bedroom door locked, I practiced floating about and cut myself to watch me heal. Dreams of being chased by armed men stopped and the Warrior self no longer visited. Many more questions piled up against me. My abilities, however, created a new hope and desire to learn more about myself.  
Three months pass. I swung lightly on the playground swing set, facing the ocean. An unknown emotion crept thru me. I focused on the foreign energy and discovered the emotion of one such student in my school. A sudden loss, such as death, pressed up against the skin of my chest. I shrugged it off as a crazy thought and never sensed anything more. Three days later, she died unexpectedly. That day forth, I was able to read emotions from anyone I choose. Although I avoided everyone in school like the plague, most had positive feelings for me. I always assumed I was just a stone in the road, waiting to get kicked out-of-the-way. How wrong I was!

College life came, eighteen years of age, and I discovered another ability. I developed a crush on a boy in my Biology 201 class. He was two years ahead of my age, blonde wavy hair, blue eyes, tall, and a fair build. Our Professor allowed us extra time to study for our upcoming midterm exam and I took advantage of the open lab. Just before I entered the open door, I spot him sitting alone with his back facing the door. My heart raced with joy! Yet, I was too shy to enter the room. I wished I could vanish, waltz into the lab unnoticed, and watch him probe the dissected frog with his strong hands. As I continue to stand in the open doorway, two girls from my class entered and walked thru my body. I stood in horror, confused to what just happened. I was invisible! As I remain in place, a guy walks in and right thru me, and sets up at the same table as the boy I liked. Still hazy minded from the events at the door, I eventually entered and stood four feet to his left. He never noticed me. Instead of enjoying my view, I feared my inexistence. Instead of savoring his presence, I wanted to be seen.  
"Can you see me?", I spoke aloud.  
He looked up to the sound of my voice, searching my side of the room for someone. He could not see me, yet he clearly heard me. I held my breath, as he frowned in my direction. He looked back down to his frog and shook his head. Quickly, I left the room, drove home, and cried into the pillow on my bed for the rest of the day.  
From then on, I kept my abilities under tight control. I never told a soul. Fears of discovery slowly entered my mind over time. It was my life away from home, living on a large University campus, which brought my fears to the table. One Friday night, I enjoyed too many Blue Hawaiians at the local favorite bar among dorm friends. One of the guys in our group broke his glass by lowering it too quickly upon the bar table, giving him a slight paper cut like wound inside the palm of his hand. He complained like a baby. I had too many cups of the blue poison, giggled my way to him, grabbed his bleeding hand, and brushed his palm off like if it was dirty. I did so to heal him.  
"You big baby. See? All better now."  
He looked at his hand, and in amazement, the cut was gone. Thankfully, he had a few too many drinks and never questioned what happened. Yet, when I awoke the next morning, I remembered what I did for him. I worried the whole week that he would approach me and question my actions. Thank the Gods, he never did. Nevertheless, what I did scared the living shit out of me. I made a terrible error. That day forth, what once was a simple dream of armed men chasing me as I flew away now returned as a nightmare. The men knew of my other abilities and chased me to harness them all. My dreams affected my sleep behavior, once again. I stayed up as late as I could afford my body to so. My grades slipped in my last two semesters, but I was able to keep a steady head, grind the books, and pass the tests to graduate with my degree. When I returned home, I only lasted four months before making my major life changing decision. I left home. I left my family. I left my friends. I left my twenty two years behind me. I no longer existed. I was considered missing and added to the Missing Persons database.

I used my invisibility to stay under the radar for a good six months. I lost a lot of weight, changed my hair color, and hid within the confines of downtown Chicagoland. I worked on fine tuning my abilities, as well as discovering another. I was taking a walk in the park, in hiding, enjoying the social interactions around me. A frisbee came into my view with a direct course to strike me eye level. At the very last second, I raised my right hand to block it. An orange light surrounded me and the frisbee bounced right off the field. The man running after it stopped in astonishment, for he saw the frisbee bounce off something that wasn't there. I ran back to the empty apartment I was hanging out in out of fear of discovery and locked myself inside for five whole days. Another damned ability. I discovered my barrier of protection.  
  
It is often I sit upon my bed around five pm or so, prop up my two pillows behind my back, and lean into them and the wall. Everyday, I make this a routine. I think about the "what if". You know. Like, what if I decide to just let the whole damn world know about what they call _'super powers'_ and shit I hold. Everyday, around five pm, I sit upon my bed and think it over. A cup of hot green tea in hand and my full length mirror reflecting self are my only witnesses. Typically, the mirror faces away from me, for I do not like what I see. I'd rather look at the toilet seat than my own face. And believe me, my apartment is small enough which I can see my toilet from my bed with ease.  
I live on the top floor of a two-story building, near the heart of Chitown. My open square 400 square foot apartment only occupies half of the building itself, for the other half is an open rooftop. A defunct store lies below me and is used by my landlord for his personal storage. As for my landlord, he is my savior. I found his ad in the local newspaper, nine years ago. This used to be a mechanical room of some sort. Although he was renting the space upstairs as storage only, I talked him into allowing me to convert it into living space, at my expense, and he agreed. He's a sweet old man of approximately seventy years of age. Widowed, he lives in a cozy home half mile from the building. I even got him to agree to allow me to build a greenhouse upon the rooftop, at my expense also. The greenhouse is my everything. It's a place for me to relax, meditate, and grow my own food. Quite literally, I like to _'veg out'_ with my flowers and exotics. My plants, fruit trees, and flowers are my only true friends. No joke.  
I've lived in my humble abode for nine long years, happily alone, living in peace, enjoying total solitude. On occasion, I will venture the city for essentials. You know, like toiletries, food, a new Sudoku book, and books at my favorite book seller or the local Library. Do I work? No. I haven't seen a paycheck in over ten years! Where do I get my money to buy things and pay rent? Well? Let's just say I'm a _'bad girl'_ using karma in a good way.

Money comes easy to me, which leads to ability number one: invisibility. I can vanish my entire self and walk thru solid objects. I can be heard, so I operate quietly. I will take a little from this store and that, as I go shopping. When I touch the object I desire, I say the word 'vanish', and it becomes transparent to all but myself. I honestly hate stealing merchandise. I rarely do so and will pay for everything I buy. So, I take cash from those whom I feel is deserving of such. This comes to ability number two: Empath. I can read people's emotions and know who's been naughty or nice. I am a believer in karma. I'm like the Karma Goddess. Murderers, gangsters, crime mobs, etc. I steal cash from their businesses. And trust me. There is plenty of cash to take in the six block radius of my apartment building. A pretty scary thought, but it is a fact. If I have anything large to be carried or handled, I will use my third ability: flight. A common item I will purchase is potting soil for my plants. I will vanish myself and the dirt and fly back to the rooftop. Flight is basically 'anti-gravity', so the objects weight is not an issue. No one can see my greenhouse. No one. I have it secretly hidden and sheltered from society with the simple 'vanish' spoken from my lips. If you look at the rooftop, you'd see just that. An empty rooftop. Yet, a large greenhouse exists! I really try to keep my life as discreet as possible. With my plants as my sole friends in life, I shelter them with utmost care and protection. The cloaking also shelters myself. I want to keep my solitude life as … well, as lonely as possible. According to society, I do not exist, and I intend to keep it this way for as long as I live. The advantage of living in a metropolitan city is the number of strangers you mingle with. There are so many people in the city, my very existence is watered down within the population. I rarely ever see the same person twice. I shop at the busiest mini markets I know and limit my visits once every two weeks. The cashiers care less and frequently I see a different one working all of the time, due to the high turn over rate of employees. Even for those whom I see at every visit, the cashier is highly unlikely to remember me, for he or she sees so many people over the course of the day. The only memory I have to worry about are the video recording devices, and there is nothing I can do about them. Well, unless I go shopping unnoticed. I would rather pay for what I need. Ethics. My fourth ability is my barrier of protection, which nothing can penetrate thru. Much like a force field, a sphere surrounds my entire living space. It reaches out and over the greenhouse, the roof, around the sides of the building, and down to the outside front door on the lower floor. I will allow birds to enter and Mr. Rey, the landlord. No one else can. I wish people could see it, for it is absolutely beautiful. The sphere is a shimmery orange, shifting to green and yellow colors, similar to the effects of fancy nail polish or eye shadow. And now for the last ability, and the most important one: healing. I only use healing for myself, the birds, and my plants. I did inadvertently heal Mr. Rey, once. He came to collect the rent money and brought me a fresh homemade loaf of zucchini bread he personally baked. I gave him a bag of cash for his troubles, like three grand. My rent is eleven hundred a month. Yes, I am often very generous for all he has to put up with and give him more than he asks. Just before he left, I saw a benign tumor on his right hand. I made him shake my hand, and I healed him. He didn't even have a fucking clue! As for the cash, he has no idea where I get it from and frankly, he does not care nor ever asks me. He knows I do not work. You see? We have this symbiotic relationship. He provides me a safe haven and I give him money. He is always so thankful, when I hand him the cash, and has the same expression as if he met an angel of miracles.  
Nine long years I lived in solitude. My family does not know where I live. My family does not know I am alive.  
I. Am. Nobody.  
  
I thank my abilities for sentencing me a life of solitary confinement. Fucking _'superpowers_ '. Anyone wishing they had _'superpowers'_ should thank their lucky stars for living a normal mortal life. Truthfully, it's a life of misery. I just happened to find a means to make the best of it.

Misery often brings company. This is where I begin my story of an alien asshole, who literally destroys the quiet and peaceful life I have grown to love. An alien. A creature. A man, whom falls from the city skyline and destroys my beloved greenhouse, my friends and family of nine years, all maimed and broken to pieces. He forever changed my inner self and my destiny. He is my beautiful stranger.


	3. A Glass House Shattered

Living alone for so long and out of touch with society, anxiety gets the best of me when I am not invisible in public. For whatever reason, I prefer to be seen inside my favorite book store. Don't ask why, for I don't have a reasonable explanation. Once a week, preferably on a Monday at store opening, I will pick a book on alternate sciences, magic, or the unusual, find a comfy chair and read, or sit in the coffee shop. Oddly enough, I get at least two guys asking me out each month. I would've never expected a book store as a hot location to hook up. Regardless how cute the guy is, each occurrence always ends in "I'm involved with someone, but thanks for asking." I'm so full of shit.

Last month, I was scanning the Science section for a book on Tesla's personal life, or more so a biography. I was skimming thru one book, when a fairly handsome shy man stood to my left, eyeing the books one case over. His energy was very warm, honest, and terribly smart. Frustrated with the four books available, I decided to give it a go and ask this good-looking man if he knew of Tesla and if so, which book would he recommend.  
"Excuse me?", I asked quietly and with a bit of a shake in my voice, for I was nervous as all heck. He looked up and gave me this surprised _'yeah?'_ expression.  
"Are you familiar with Tesla?", I asked, keeping my eyes on the book in hand.  
"I am.", he answered with interest.  
"I'm looking for a book which covers his life. More so his personal life, outside of his work. I'm curious to know what he was like outside of his mad world."   
The man gave me a short surprised look, then a smile, and moved toward the shelf holding books on Tesla.  
"I think this book may be a good fit, but there are three others …which, you know, may suit my curiosity.", I shared. He looked at me with a warm smile and returned his eyes to the shelf. I think my heart skipped a beat. Those warm brown eyes? Damn. He may be older by ten years or more, but I'd still fuck him.  
"Is this the same book you are holding?"  
"Yes it is.", feeling a bit giddy.   
He read the back, flipped thru it, and I began to drift into a dirty fantasyland of me and Mr. Smarts making out in my apartment.  
"This is a good book. I've never read it myself, but I have heard a lot of good things about it from friends and colleagues.", he said thru his smile.  
"Ah. Oh, okay? Wow. Thanks for your help.", I answered nervously and blushed, thanks to my dirty little mind.  
"Yeah. Not a problem.", he said with a long smile. With the same book in hand, I quickly made my exit to the checkout and left.

I saw him again, yesterday, as I sat in the coffee shop. I was enjoying a mocha latte and reading a book on Native American Indian myths passed down from generation to generation.  
"Hi." I looked up and reacted in shock to see him. Stupid me. Sometimes? I completely forget that I am visible in the store, and when I am noticed, I have the tendency to overreact in shock.  
"Oh. Hi!", I said.  
"I was curious to know what you thought of the book on Tesla?"  
"Oh yeah! Right! Yes, I really liked it. Just what I was looking for. Thanks again!", I said with too much excitement.  
"What are you reading now?"  
"Um. Native American myths."  
"Oh? Sounds interesting.", he said in his same warm smile.  
"Yeah, it is. So far. Heh."  
I tried not to blush. I may have tried too hard, for I felt a sweat grow behind my upper back. He made a 'huh' sound, in a cute chuckle-like way. At that moment, I became so fucking nervous. His very presence. Recognizing me from before. Speaking to me. I had to get the fuck out of there. I stood up, grabbed my drink and the book I borrowed.  
"Nice to meet you.", I quipped and quickly left him.   
I put the book back and left. Just like that. I'm seriously fucked up in the head. I swear. I will live alone. Forever.

I have no television or a computer to share my time with. I kill time by reading, working Sudoku puzzles, and holding random chit chats with my greenhouse plants. Living alone doesn't feel lonely. I've grown accustomed to my lifestyle. I accepted it many years ago. I'm desensitized. Yet, it's moments like yesterday where I feel my loneliness grab me around my neck and squeeze. I choked hard, and obviously so, in front of this man. He probably thinks I'm a nut. I remove my mind from yesterday's embarrassment by lying on the comforter, belly down. I am working feverishly on a Sudoku puzzle of difficulty 'medium'. Grossly absorbed with the paper and number two leaded pencil, I chew the butt end as my mind repeats the numbers one thru nine along each row. The gnaw marks on the wooden pencil and lack of paint goes to show just how much stress is placed before me. As I squint my eyes and scribble the number nine into an empty box, a tremendous crash rumbles outside my apartment wall. The rupture of glass is terrifying, screaming to me, as well as the sound of bent aluminum and steel. Wide eyed and panic-stricken, I run to the sliding glass door to investigate. I slowly open the door and witness a tragedy I never in my life ever expected to see. My greenhouse lay in smithereens. A meteor, perhaps? A part of an airplane? What could have penetrated my protective barrier?! I immediately burst into tears.  
"What? Why?", I mumble past my lips soaked in salty tears.  
As I slowly make my approach, I hear a wet gurgle …a man's voice, it seems. Several long moans and the moving of glass shards emanates within the center of the debris field. Slowly I approach in sniffles, carefully walking over twisted aluminum framing, broken pots, and fragments of glass. Does my vision fail me? Is there really a man, alive, lying within the debris? Impossible!  
A constant low gurgle stray from his mouth as he lay on his back upon the collapsed wooden table, which once housed many of my herbal plants. A fancy brown leathery long coat and pants, lined with yellow and green trim and gold thread, is now soaked with his warm red juice along his torso. Fancy engraved silver bracelets sit above his long and slender forearms. His hair is to his shoulders in silver-gray, yet his facial skin appears too young for old age. His glazed midnight blue eyes grabbed my own and immediately my body jolted, for I felt as if I sunk into a dark gorge. Nothing about him says 'Human'. For a moment, I almost believed he to be a cosplayer, for his outfit screams it. Within the carnage I stood frozen in time, trying to decipher how I never received a fair warning that this beautiful stranger was nearing my protective barrier. How did he manage to break thru it? If anything, he should have bounced off it! I am left completely dumbfounded and my repeat questions resembled walking into a brick wall, over and over. He let out a serious and distasteful wet cough, breaking me away from my selfish questions. As I look over his broken body and take notice to his damages, my body begins to shake from the adrenaline rush, and another problem comes to play: Tony Stark.  
All Tony can see is an empty rooftop, yet his instincts tells him otherwise. He knows of this man's tricks and adjusts his experimental jetpack to lower him. Watching Tony creep forward and make a beeline to my rooftop put me in a state of panic, for I must act quickly! I look back at the dying man and carefully lower to my knees to get a better assessment of his trauma. His narrow eyes glistened like black glass, twitching due to the intense pain he battles within. He removes his eyes from my own and is now keeping watch on Tony. I look back up and roughly estimate he's about 80 feet away and lowering. I turn and lean my face into the ailing man's right ear and speak calmly.  
"I'm going to make us invisible. As a precaution. But he will still be able to hear us. I need you to be as quiet…".  
Violently, he coughs up blood and it spatters over my chest and face. The gore does not move me, quickly placing my right hand onto his chest and say the word.  
"Vanish!".  
I move both my open palms outwards to the debris and vanish it all. With my right hand, I disengage the barrier. Quickly, I return my right hand upon his chest. He violently coughs again, which Tony hears, and lowers at a faster rate. I lean in and speak to the man, once more, with determination.  
"I'm going to numb the pain and pray to God it stops your coughing, or you and I are in serious trouble!"  
With my right hand still upon his chest, I send forth gentle healing to ease his pain by suppressing his nervous system. Immediately, I sense a change in his demeanor. His trembling chest heaves less and his glossed over eyes are more focused on Tony's arrival. Touching him also gave me insight to how close to death this man was. Less than ten minutes away, should I have not been here to heal his pain and begin his recovery! I have never healed anyone in such magnitude, I begin to scare myself. Tony lowers himself upon the rooftop, near the railing of the front side of the building. He stands there, motionless, with only his head and scrutinizing eyes moving about, scanning and listening for signs of life. Both the injured man and I keep our wary eyes fixed upon Tony. A growing sense of fight or flight reaches into me from the mystery man, along with pounding waves of angry emotions pushing forward into my right palm. If it were not for his nervous system in near shutdown mode, I have no doubt this man would make an attempt to kick Tony's ass.  
Tony makes his approach along the wall of my apartment and eyes the open sliding glass door. I raise my body slowly, float over the silvery haired man, and hover over the debris on his left side. His inquisitive eyes lay upon me, as I floated over his body, and then returns to see where Tony stood. Tony shares a puzzled look upon his stern face. I can feel his emotions tell me something is amiss, and it is eating him up. A clear impression comes forth, advising me that Tony does not enjoy an unsolved mystery. For him to spend this much time upon my rooftop meant he saw this man fall here. Tony peers into the open door, but does not enter.  
I survey the wet leather and analyze the large glass shard protruding thru his upper torso. The only way to remove it is to push his body over, so I can pull it out from his backside. I wait for Tony to leave. A heavy stench of anger rose from the injured man. That's when I realize this guy is no punk off the street on his way to a cosplay convention. His beauty begins to capture my heart, as his dark eyes shifts from the anger within. The silver hair and pale damp skin glistens as the sun touches him. His great distaste toward Tony excites me, for I never liked the character myself. Suddenly, Tony beings to talk to someone on the radio.  
"I lost him. Don't ask me how."  
He makes one final visual scan of the rooftop, lets out a long sigh, and lifts up and away from sight. All this time, I continue to heal my beautiful stranger. A fractured left leg below the knee, bumps and bruises, and internal bleeding I mend. Gently, I press the tips of my left fingers near the entry point of the glass shard and apply my magic to lift him. Slowly, I turn him away from me. Gently and meticulously, I pull the large triangular glass shard out of his back. All this time, he watches me with tremendous interest. A Human …a mortal …with so many gifts is not only remarkable but unheard of! His desires peak, bringing his left hand to rest upon my right knee. Quietly, he remain upon the broken table with pursed and bloody lips. His eyes travel over my body, begging for physical evidence I am not Human. His dislike for Midgardian mortals is strong, yet my abilities mask the bitter taste upon his tongue.  
I hover back over his body and rest my knees upon the debris to his left. As I lean into his right ear once more, he inhales deeply to take in my pheromones. He wants to believe I am not Human, but the stench of a rotten carcass says otherwise.  
"I've completed your healing. I will restore your nervous system, now . Please let me know if you feel any further discomfort."  
Once I believe I completed my healing, I stand up and back up four feet from his body. All the while, he keeps his dark eyes upon me, pressing against my skin as to probe me. I do not appreciate his look and share this with my disapproving scowl. His distrust in me creeps under my skin and my hairs stand on end. He looks down and touches his belly, where the brown cloth is tattered from the glass shard, and examines the blood upon his fingers, rubbing the sticky red in his bare fingertips. The slow glance of his midnight blue eyes fall upon me once more, sending forth another wave of shivers inside. He had no trouble getting up onto his feet and quickly moves to me with a single step forward. Startled, I respond with a single step back. He repeats another step forward. A barrage of unease rush over my already heightened, cold and sweaty skin. I throw up my right hand to halt him.  
"Whoa! Stop. You are in shock. It's okay!"   
He remains still and constrict his eyes upon me with intense curiosity.  
I just about had enough fun for today. My adrenaline rush ditches me, causing me to suffer a hard crash and my knees begin to give way. I immediately turn around and use the wall to balance myself, as I walk toward the sliding glass door. I never make it. I slump upon the debris strewn floor and sit on my ass. My God! I am completely exhausted and nauseated! Is it my adrenaline crash or my healing which makes me feel fatigued and ill? Birds and plants are the only living things I ever healed, and they never made me feel this way. The mystery man, however, was an unplanned ER event with many abilities used in between. This is all too much for me to process and comprehend. Here I sit, slumped up against the brick outer wall, heartbroken and bemused. All the while, I stare upon the broken glass windows, bent aluminum and steel framing, and damaged plants. Leaves, branches, flower petals, fruit, and vegetables lay slaughtered in every direction. My only friends and family of 9 long years, destroyed in seconds. I don't know how long I allowed myself to meld with the destruction, for it felt like forever and a day. Nothing really feels real to me, anymore. I very much want all of this to end. This horrible nightmare, I want it to vanish!   
_'Please awake me! Please tell me this is nothing but a really, really bad dream!'_  
Then? He spoke. Reality sinks its teeth into my innocence, changing me forever.  
"Are you alright?"  
His voice pulls me back to reality so quickly, I almost feel the need to vomit. With my left hand, I slap it upon my stomach, lean over with my right hand upon the floor, and speak out loudly to myself.  
"Breathe. Breathe. Slowly. Don't throw up!" I hate throwing up. I so hate it. He speaks once more, expressing concern.  
"Are you alright?"  
"Hell no, I'm not alright! That's more than I can obviously handle in one day's time, thanks to you!", I angrily respond.  
The stranger then walks thru the rubble. I watch him approach the railing, look over, and continue his walk around the rooftop. It appears he is looking for a way out. I close my eyes and shake my head in disbelief, for his behavior angers me. This beautiful stranger enters my life to destroy it, I save his life ten minutes shy of his death, and he wants to bail?   
_'No fucking way. That fucking asshole!'_   
Grabbing the brick wall, I slowly rise and stand, and yell out to him.  
"Unless you can fly your ass out, the door is THIS way!"  
I never look back. I walk straight to the sliding door and stand aside. I hear him walk thru the rubble and approach. He does not say a word but only stares upon my delicate, weak, and trembling body. My exposed upper chest is blotched with his blood and soaked in my cold sweat, confessing to my stranger I worked hard to save his life. I motion my left hand to get him moving.  
"This way.", I sternly say.   
Just as he was about to enter the doorway, I abruptly cut him off and enter first.  
"Ladies first!"  
He smirks at my words and is taken by surprise by my action. My silver headed beauty is beginning to enjoy my company.

The adrenaline crash hit me once more, and an intense wave of nausea strikes. I stop at the kitchen sink, and with both hands now gripping the edge, I quickly scan the countertop for edibles. I spot an apple, grab it with ferocity, and tear into it. Sugar. I need sugar! The silver headed beauty walks behind me and stops five feet from my position. He stands well within my comfort zone, watching me devour the delicate red apple down to its core. I throw up my left index finger and point to the apartment door. My body language clearly speaks to him: Get the fuck out. His eyes follow my finger, takes notice of the door, and proceeds only four feet forward. I pay no attention to his actions, for I no longer can focus or process any information surrounding me. Overwhelmed in my emotions, I lean into the kitchen sink. The slaughtered apple core falls forth into the silver basin and my eyes follow suit. Tears begin to flow madly, yet I do not share a single cry. I've never wept this way before. Clearly, I am emotionally fucked up.  
"Before I make my leave, I want to thank you …".  
"Fuck you!", I bark back.  
"Not exactly what I expected? But, thank you for saving my life.", he kindly responds.  
I'm so angry, I say no more.  
My mystery man shrugs his shoulders, turns toward the door, and opens it. I glance to my right and view the destruction he left for me. My brain finally comprehends just how much damage this single man created. How he did not die on the spot, I do not understand. Literally, the greenhouse is obliterated. I still cannot believe my eyes and walk up to the open patio door to get a better look and remain standing in utter disbelief. All this time, I assumed my beautiful stranger had left me. Instead, he remain standing at the open front door, watching my every move with intense interest.  
"How. How's this possible? I don't understand!"  
I enter the rooftop and carefully take steps thru the rubble, not to get caught in the mangled distress. I spot an unbroken tarragon pot, only missing a handful of dirt, and wave my hand over the delicate stems and leaves. I set the pot upon the three-foot brick wall. I continue to pick up pots, broken or not, and examine my plants wellbeing. I wave my love over each of my friends. I finally spot my beloved lemon tree.  
"Oh my God! Shit …let me help you."  
The top two feet of the five foot tree broke off and hung on by the its thin strip of bark. I line up the break and clasp my right hand over it, sealing the injury and making the tree whole once more. I believe I spent a good hour, rummaging thru the debris field. I sorted out the broken pots, empty pots, plants without pots …healing everything in plain sight. Most plants suffered decapitation, yet I restored them all. I moved all of my plants, flowers, and trees and line them up against the brick wall. I found my act of healing is terribly therapeutic, subsiding my anger and feeling more at ease. My only family I have, I save nearly all of them. In the end, I say the word _'appear'_. There's nothing to hide. Not anymore. Nothing.

Those dark midnight blue eyes remain fixed upon my distressed and sweaty body, as I carefully move about and repair my plants. I am too busy caring for my beloved and take no notice to his presence. I place my last and final pot of basil with the others and head back to the door. I let out a terrifying scream. There stood my mystery man, supporting himself against the door frame. Like a deer in headlights, I freeze in place. I assumed he left the apartment, yet there he is! How could I be so damn stupid not to follow thru and ensure his leave!  
"You have gifts most Gods would admire.", slyly he says.  
"What?"   
His use of "God" lost me.  
"You heal. You can disappear. You defy gravity."  
Shit. He knows too much about me. A sudden urge to rid of the problem enters my mind. Should I kill him? Knock him out cold and dump him thousands of miles away? Shit! What do I do!?  
"I am most humble to be in your presence, for you recovered me fully."   
As his lips deliver, he also walks towards me. Once again, I throw up my right hand to stop his forward motion.  
"Don't come near me! I don't know who you are, where you came from, and why you decided to destroy the love of my life!", I scold him.  
He stops his approach and lowers his head.   
"I meant no harm."  
"Really?! Then why the FUCK did you bring your issue HERE! Look …I don't know what beef you've got with Stark, but did you HAVE to bring it HERE?! REALLY?!"  
I am fuming. My blood boils and a sweat breaks out on my upper back and in between my breasts. I spot a piece of aluminum, pick it up, and fling it across the rooftop. It comes into contact with another piece of aluminum, lets out a loud clang, and a nearby sheet of glass falls over and breaks. I release a loud groan, full of grief. Quiet falls between us. The uncomfortable silence plays like nails on a chalkboard. Someone needs to speak up, quickly! Fuck it. I open my mouth first.  
"So.", I exhale.  
"Yes?", he responds.  
"This is a really good time for you to leave."  
"Ah, yes. Indeed. I believe the door is this way?", he candidly replies.  
An impression that he does not take any of this seriously tangles with my distressed mind. He walks ahead, out the door, and I close it with force to express my disapproval to his visit. I lock the handle and put the chain in place. No sooner do I turn around and walk away, a hear three loud knocks on the door. I take in a deep breath to calm myself, turn around, and unlock the door. The chain is left in place.  
"Yes?!"   
I don't look at him.  
"Curious. The invisibility, earlier. Is that …".  
"Let me guess. You want to know if it's still working?", I ask.  
"Yes. That is correct.", he responds softly.  
He doesn't need my invisibility, for he has magic of his own. He only asks to find an excuse to prolong his company with me. I shake my head in disbelief. At this point, I no longer give a shit. My brain is mush, my emotions coastered out, and I no longer gave a flying fuck what else is thrown at me. I look up at his face and witness his tender eyes. I roll my own, close the door, unsecure the chain, and open the door fully. Astounded, his eyebrows rise.  
"Come in."  
"Thank you.", he says with a tender smile.  
I close the door and walk to the kitchen counter.  
"Would you like some tea? Coffee? A beverage?", I ask, nonchalantly.  
"Tea would be nice. Thank you.", he responds with a fine tune of puzzlement.  
I need the caffeine from the tea to help settle my nerves. Complete silence falls between us, as I wait for my kettle to sing. I tap into his emotions and sense his strong curiosity and anticipation. He questions my sudden change to accept him back into my home, and he is damn right to. I want answers.   
_'Why is he here? Of all places, why my backyard?'_   
I don't believe in coincidences. No way in Hell did he just land into my life without reason! There MUST be an explanation. For what I endured, I deserve an answer! The kettle begins to whisper gently. I pour the hot water into our cups, stir the tea bags for a minute, and carry his cup first. He is still standing by the door.  
"Please. Sit down. My bed serves as a couch."  
He takes a seat at the right corner and I hand him his cup. I return to the counter, pick up my cup, and return to sit up against my pillow to the left side of the bed.  
"Interesting accommodations. How do you live in comfort? It is much too small.", he says with politeness. It's enough to make me gag.  
"You do what you can around here. And to live in anonymity? I like to keep, what they call, low profile."  
Sips. Sips all around.  
"Why. Why here? Of all places. Why here?!", I ask eagerly, pointing my right index finger to the floor. He responds with a shrug. "You see. I don't believe in coincidences. Stark dumped you here for a reason. WHY!"  
I watch his eyes shift back and forth, as he looks upon my comforter. He clearly is thinking of a reason to share. The longer he takes, the bigger the lie.  
"We entered into a disagreement. I took an uninvited ride, and he eventually got the best of me. He knocked me off his jetpack. I fell. Here, I landed."   
He takes a long sip of tea, looking away.  
"What else? There is more.", I demand.  
"What more can I tell you?", still looking away.  
"You are not being sincere. I'm an Empath. I know you are holding back.", narrowing my eyes at his own.  
"You can read minds?", he asks with his inquisitive dark eyes now upon me.  
"No. Emotions!" I let out a sigh. "I can read people based on their emotions. Not by thoughts. And you, sir, are not telling me the whole story."  
"I believe if One needs to be told the truth, it is I. You are not sincere, either.", he responds pragmatically.  
"What?"  
"You are out of your realm.", he says firmly.   
My mouth falls open. I feel a _'what the fuck'_ moment pressing on.  
"Realm?! What are you TALKING about?!"   
He adjusts his body so that his chest is now in direct view.  
"You do not know, do you? You do not know who you are."  
His body language is stoic. I am dumbfounded by his question. How DARE he turn the tables on me! I am asking the questions here! Realm?! What the …. And how does he know I question my own Being? Before I can open my mouth, he speaks.  
"My brother. He is in a relation with your kind." He crosses his left leg and puts the empty cup down upon the comforter. He clasps his hands above his knee and continues his story. "Relations with Midgardians is forbidden in my realm. I came here to put an end to it."  
"If his lady is here and not in your realm, how is this a problem?", I ask.  
I feel his dark cold eyes press into my face and a chill escapes down my spine. I shake in response to his stare.  
"He wants to bring her back. I will not allow it!"   
I squint my eyes at him.  
"Let me get this straight. This is the reason why you smashed into my beloved greenhouse? Please. In regards to your sibling rivalry? You have an intense jealousy toward your brother. Anything he does? You act against. Am I right?"  
I take a long sip and watch his eyes narrow and his smile dissipate.  
"NO!", he spits.  
He immediately grabs his cup, stands up, and throws the cup at my front door. The cup crushes into a hundred tiny pieces and the sound alone makes me flinch and turn away. I smile, for I hit a sore spot on my mystery man.   
"Everything I have done, so has my brother in equal! There is no jealousy! I am only doing what is right …".  
"For yourself.", I barge in.  
I take a sip and smile at my cup. I can feel him peel my shell away with his intense stare. Indeed, he's angry at me. I change the subject.  
"How were you able to get past my barrier?"  
"Pardon?"  
"I had a barrier placed above the greenhouse and my apartment building. No one's EVER penetrated it. Well. No one's ever tried. I only allow birds to enter. You're clearly no bird. You should've bounced off!", I share.  
"I entered a barrier designed for no one?", he asks with surprise.  
"No one, but myself, can enter. If anyone comes close, I can feel the presence of said person. I never felt you. Your presence. Stark, I did. Not you. I should've known you were coming!", I say with determination.   
I want answers! Quietly he remains standing, looking at the floor.   
"Why?", I ask.   
He sits down again and looks at me with a softer glance.  
"I do not have the answers you seek. As for the barrier, I was not aware. Had the barrier worked, we would not be having this conversation. Delicious tea, by the way."  
I shake my head and smile. Smart ass. I even chuckle a bit. As I stare at the ripples within the tea cup from my shaking hands, he glances at his blood spatter upon my face, neck, chest, shoulders, and the dried blood upon both my hands and forearms. His life spilled upon my low cut dress. I watch him stand up and approach the sink. He picks up the wash cloth, runs hot water over it, and rings it out. He returns to me with a gentle smile.  
"I have my life and no way to thank you for it. Please. Allow me to remove my memories." My body tenses and heats up. "May I?", he gingerly asks. I lean back into my pillow and hold my cup of tea in my right hand. I frown heavily and give in.  
"Sure.", I whisper.  
His thin and long fingers teases the dishcloth into a ball. Kneeling, he takes his left hand and gently holds my left forearm. The dishcloth glides from top to bottom, over and over, with his right. He even wiped in between my fingers. As he stands up and returns to the sink to rinse the towel, my emotions take a turn for the worse. My silent tears are no more. I cry out loud. I have been alone for 9 long years and have not been touched, held, or hugged. I forgot what it feels like to be in the accompany of another person. Birds and plants cannot replace this pleasure. A bond between two people, whether it be friends, family, or love, I have missed dearly. I simply forgot how it feels, and the enormity of recollection is much too overwhelming. I cry even further into my left hand. He returns and wipes my left shoulder down.  
"I am sorry. Should I stop?", he gently asks.  
"No. Please don't. It's just …".  
I dip my head even further into my left hand and cry harder. He stands up and returns the dishcloth to the sink. My tears link up with his blood spatter upon my cheeks like connect the dots. The mixture rolls down my neck and connect with more of his blood. The gentle cascade of blood and tears reach my pendant, which a single drop comes into contact with the stone and it begins to emanate a light glow of baby blue. The blue stone of my pendant, which all this time I believed to be a phony piece of plastic, begins to glow! I do not take notice, but my silver-haired beauty does. As he returns to me, the glow catches his immediate attention and stops him dead. He tilts his head slightly to the left and thinks hard, for he feels a familiarity with this glow.  
"Your pendant. It is glowing.", he says in amusement.   
I am sniffling and sobbing so hard, I only hear the words "your" and "it is". He takes a few more steps closer, yet cautiously.   
"The stone in your pendant."  
I look up at him and see his wide eyes staring upon my chest. I scornfully look back. He looks at my eyes, smiling, and looks back at my chest once more. I look down and now notice the stone glowing. My eyes widen.  
"Oh my God! It's never done this before!"  
A tickle upon my right cheek from another tear leads my left hand to wipe it away. I continue to wipe the blood and tears with from my cheek, down my neck, and upon my chest. I hold the stone with the same blood and tear-stained fingers, raising it to get a better look. As I rub my stone with my fingers, it glows harder. Excitement sets in. He takes a few steps forward and crouches down to look at my stone at eye level. He shares my astonishment.  
"All these years, it's never glowed. Never!"  
Soon after I speak, I take my same hand, damp with his blood and my tears mixed, and firmly grasp the pendant. I witness his eyes grow even wider and his mouth falls open. A blinding light ensues. It's so bright, I truly believe I've just died and entered the light. It envelops me fully, blocking out my view of the mystery man, and I begin to panic. He is equally shocked to see my transformation. In a mere second, my hands and forearms turn dark blue and is lighter in color past my elbows. The skin of my lower chest and breasts turn a light blue hue. My long brown hair changes to an uneven streak of dark and light blues. My wide eyes further astonish him, for they no longer are brown. A distinct pink iris with golden flakes surround it.   
_'I can't see him!'_   
I am literally blind! My panic ensues and anxiety now sets in.   
_'Where is he? What is he doing?'_   
I am completely vulnerable and no longer can defend myself! He knew what he was looking at. It all makes sense now. My ability to heal and strong magic. He read about my kind, when he was young in school. My question to why he landed here, of all places, begins to haunt him equally. Was it fate? Destiny? Did the stone bring him forth to discover me?  
"I can't see! I can't see!", I scream in agonizing fear.  
He moves in and carefully releases my death grip around my pendant. Had he not done so, I would still be lost. The light dims enough for me to see my room. I look down at my legs and notice the blue hue of my skin upon my hands and lower arms. My eyes shift side to side from my shock and I holler with fear. Quickly, I jump out of bed, drop the cup out of my right hand, and run into the bathroom, slamming the door shut. I catch a glimpse of my eyes in a different fashion, just before it fades back to my browns. Seeing the golden specks with a pink iris, I feel the hairs upon my back stand on end. I look like a monster! I then check the skin of my hands and see the blues have already slowly faded back to my normal medium complexion.  
"What's happening to me?!"  
I leave the bathroom and head for the tall mirror, rudely pushing the man out of my way. I thoroughly examine all of my skin, from my hairs to my toes. I take notice the roots of my hairs appear slightly blue. I gasp loudly and speak to him, fuming.  
"What did you do to me!!"  
I instantly blame him for my daunting transformation. Just like I blame him for my life turned upside down, all thanks to his uninvited visit thru my greenhouse and for my most intimate secrets exposed. My mind begins to swirl in disbelief and the urge to fight or flight ensues. With eyebrows narrowed and tears running freely over my emotional strife, I quickly dash out the open patio door and run thru the debris field of glass shards and aluminum rods. Cuts appear over my calves and ankles, yet I am unfazed and continue to quickly move around in complete confusion. Anxiety ensues, and everything around me begins to narrow into a small tight corridor. I panic.  
"God … please help me! Oh my God!"  
I finally make it to the far corner of the rooftop and white knuckle the ledge, hyperventilating from the blazing terrors within. I've never been so scared in my whole life.  
"What …why's this happening to me?!", I holler.  
I hear the silver beauty fast approach me, for his clumsy footing avoids the dangerous debris below. I quickly turn around to face him, throwing daggers from my eyes to kill him on the spot. I want him dead.  
"For nine long years, I lived in hiding to protect myself from the outside World. Nine long years! Do you hear me!? Damn you for destroying my life!"   
I force all the air out of my lungs, as I deliver my angry message. He throws up both of his open hands, face me, and moves forward a single step.  
"You need to know who you are.", he calmly speaks.  
"I don't WANT to know! I don't give a damn! I grew tired living my life in question at sixteen. I'm done asking! I don't care! I just want to be left alone!"  
"A moment …".   
I abruptly cut him off, screaming.  
"Don't you get it?! If others find out about me? I'm going to become someone's fucking experiment! You …you people probably got some kind of code, right? Or a deal with the Government? Is that it? You're with the guys in black? Are you some kind of superior alien? A God? Is that why they don't touch you? Is it?!"  
My hands are in tight fists, ready to throw a blast. The nails dig into my palms, bringing forth a slow drip of blood to the floor. My body's in a state of shock, and any pain endured I can't feel. I can't even feel the reeling pain in my chest from my racing heart. His chest heaves heavy with his hands doing the talking to calm the storm.  
"Stop …", he says aloud.  
I throw my right bloody index finger at his face and scream.  
"NO! YOU stop! YOU started this! I hate you for it!"   
I take in a deep breath and scream bloody murder.   
"I HATE YOU! I FUCKING HATE YOU!"

At that very moment, I jump up and take flight high into the atmosphere until my lungs nearly froze and burned and my skin no longer could bear the extreme cold. As I free fall to the surface, my tears leave me and turn into ice crystals. My beautiful stranger did reach for my feet, as I lifted away, and he was nearly successful. I left him in disbelief. Disbelief, because what he read in his youth and stories told of my kind was now nothing more than a false myth. My kind still existed, and a new desire itched below his hidden blue skin. All his concerns over his brother's Midgardian relationship left him for a greater purpose: To find the woman whom saved his life. To win her trust. To determine the wealth of her power, so to benefit him. A great pleasure moved within, shutting his eyes tight, and feeling his manhood harden. He has not felt such pleasure from thoughts alone, since his last teenage rendezvous with an Alfheimian girl. Recalling her near death from his sexual advances snaps him back to reality, shaking his head hard to refocus.  
"We will meet again. I swear it."


	4. No Solace From Chaos

I flew all the way out toward the Aleutian Islands of Alaska, and sought out the former Naval Air Station Adak. Now a ghost town of only sixty or less people remaining, it makes for a perfect place to remain undiscovered. I lived here, twice, when the military base was bustling mad and was five thousand people strong. Some of my most fond memories as a young child and as a teenager are on this island. It is also the home of my meditation spot, NORPAC Hill.  
98% of the buildings now stand empty to the winds and rain, as well as most of the homes. The remaining Adakians live steadfast with high hopes and dreams the island will once again thrive with business and tourism. With the fishery plant in idle and a future of uncertainty, the population is slowly dwindling.  
It rains on most days with overcast skies and often very low ceilings. Flights are often diverted back to Anchorage due to poor visibility or high winds. A most desolate island to live upon, making it a PERFECT location for myself to hide from the World, recoup my life, and hopefully move on anew.  
When the forecast holds dry, I spend my time at NORPAC Hill, lie on my back and stare upon the either gray molted sky or rare crystal blue hues above. The Aleutian sticky reed grass sways in the wind, creating a rattling noise and the constant roar of waves crashing ashore on Kuluk Beach all brings forth a mesmerizing white noise to quiet my mind. This is my meditation spot and has been since High School. When I lived off Adak, I would visualize this very hill in my meditations for a quick get-a-way of daily life. It is also here I met my two Guardian Angels, Raul and Jules. It's how I choose my current name, Jules, out of anonymity.

It's been nine months, since I left downtown Chicago for this place. Where do I live? In many homes, for most are yet intact and vacant. I pick and choose, depending upon my mood and what furniture I can find to accommodate my needs. The average temperature on Adak runs around 45 degrees Fahrenheit, and there is no heat in any of the homes I choose to live in. Yet, I find the cold temperatures do not bother me. When I blasted myself sky-high into the atmosphere, escaping from my apartment rooftop and the dark-eyed alien stranger, I discovered a tolerance to cold temperatures. It can get down to wind chills of -20 degrees Fahrenheit and it feels more like 40-45 degrees Fahrenheit. I don't suffer from frostbite, which is a blessing. It is so strange …my adaptation, such as Adak's, for it plays to my advantage. Maybe I've always been cold temperature tolerant. Maybe it was hitting the bitter temps high above. So strange.  
I get my food from the mainland of Anchorage, flying there in disguise and using my Karma feelers to take away cash where it is deserved and then reappearing to make my purchases. Sometimes, when I feel a bit of paranoia of being noticed, I shamefully steal my supplies. I only do so, when my gut tells me it is best to stay under the radar. I then fly back three thousand miles to Adak.  
When the weather is foul and I grow bored sitting still in my residence, I take flight to the High School's gymnasium and lie flat upon my back on the cold gym floor in complete darkness. It is so dark, I do not have to close my eyes to dream and see my visions. When I attended High School here, I would stay after school and hope to squeeze into the empty and dark gym to do the same and daydream in the dark. With eyes open, it feels like I am floating in the dark abyss, making my experience much more surreal. Ah, yes …daydreaming in the old dark gymnasium. Just like old times! As I lay here today, I ask the same questions as my youth.  
"Who am I?"  
"Why am I here?"  
"Who brought me to this World?"  
On other days, I will hang out in my Aviation/Rocketry classroom, which was my all-time favorite class in High School. Two desks remain in the disheveled classroom, both littered with dust and plaster from the water damaged ceiling above. I wiped off the many years of untouched dust upon one desk and wiped the seat clean, both with the long sleeve of my right armed sweatshirt. With the desk facing the rectangular windows above, I will slump forward and rest my chin within both hands, hours at a time, and daydream a life of normalcy or just veg out.  
During caribou hunting season, I will dick around with the hunters quite a bit. Cloaking myself, I tag along with the crew and shoo the caribou herd to make the men miss a shot. It works each and every time, causing me to painfully hold my laughter within as I listen to the men bitch like women, freak out, and get all man-pissy over a missed shot. There was one guy whom actually stood straight up and began scanning my general direction, determining what spooked the herd. This guy was good. Too bad for him, for he flew off the island without a trophy.

The day I ran away from my rooftop, the little understood and highly mysterious BlackOps-Discovery swarmed upon my humble abode. Apparently, my blue stone triggered an energy anomaly, which they picked up on their fancy equipment. The black unmarked vehicles were at my building within ten minutes, which meant I bailed out of there a few minutes before showtime. My beautiful stranger was still there, and yes, he was brought in for a lot of questioning. His brother was not forgiving, for he was already displeased with silver haired supposed plans to make him and his Earthbound lady's life miserable. With my guy also on site of the registered anomaly, his brother is further displeased with concerns he is up to no good.  
Stark was full of questions as well, for he was the last person to see my mystery man alive. All this time, before BlackOps-D arrival, Tony badgered his brains and dug deep into his head to justify how my dark-eyed beauty disappeared on him. He obviously was there, for the crew found him on site and on the rooftop. It drove him mad, not understanding how he missed the man on the rooftop. He also believed someone else was with him. He wanted to know more about the tenant whom lives in the apartment, if my mystery man knew the person or to whom he met. Something just didn't add up, and for Tony, he has to make sense of everything.

Midnight blue eyes sits in a comfortable cell, deep underground of BlackOps-D's headquarters, sharing his signature cunning smile with the guards facing him on the outside of his cell. His brother bound his wrists in a unique engraved platinum-like metal, inhibiting his magic. No one in B.O.D. questioned the bracelet, what it was made of, and whether it will keep Loki from harming others. Thor is viewed as Earth's savior, a God he is, and no one questions him. Stark enters the cell and takes a seat in front of my dark-eyed beauty. He whistles in a sexy way.  
"Those are some beautiful bracelets. Your brother has exceptional taste in jewelry.", he says, smirking.  
"And beauty lies within it.", returning a dirty smirk.  
"I saw you lying there, on your back and on the roof. When I got close, you pulled the magic card and 'poof'! Out of sight. Frankly? I find that impossible."  
"I'm capable of impossibilities.", says the dark-eyed man.  
"No, no. You fell two hundred and seventy eight feet, and splat! You LOOKED broken. I saw blood. You …you clearly did not act alone. Someone else was with you."  
"Go on.", says my brown leather clad cosplayer, with his right leg crossed over his left, foot moving up and down …a smile in the corner of his left mouth appears.  
"Who helped you?", demands Tony.  
"I was alone.", he smiles.  
"Bullshit."  
Tony's anger brings my dark-eyed beauty to a rolling laughter.  
"May I remind you that I am a God! Just because I fell from a height which can easily obliterate a mortal, it does not apply to me."  
"Gods are only immortal in design. YOU? You, my not so friend, are flawed in every way! Just look at the difference between you and your brother!", Tony says in his smart alack ways.  
The mystery man and Tony both stand up and head for each other, head to head. They stop three feet away, face to face, in a hard stare down. Neither back down and remain steadfast with their dirty stare for a good thirty seconds.  
"The answer you seek is not here. Pick on a different puzzle. Let me be."  
"Who. Helped. You.", demands Tony in a harsh tone.  
His dark eyes are within a foot of Tony's now and his eyebrows narrow.  
"I would never tell you, in my following thousand years of life!"  
Tony knew full well he wasn't going to get an answer from the macho man in the brown leather coat and pants, so he returns a strong stare down.  
"I guess I will have to find out for myself now, won't I?", snaps Tony.  
As Tony turns and walks toward the cell door, he quickly turns around and said to my dark-eyed wonder with his right index finger pointed directly to his face.  
"And mark my words. I WILL find out who was working with you!"

Tony returned to Mr. Rey's building the next morning. He got a hold of the landlord, and initially, Mr. Rey was not going to allow Tony to have access to either the building or to the apartment for Mr. Rey is too loyal to me and honored my privacy. Unfortunately, he was not aware of what transpired the night before and all Tony had to do was speak to the suspicious Government agency he worked with and Mr. Rey's life could go from fabulous to miserable in zero to sixty seconds. I don't blame Mr. Rey for giving in.  
As Tony enters my apartment, he takes a close look around. Mr. Rey gives him a false name for the renter. Tony has a hunch he is lying, which is of little consequence, for he has the best gadgets at home to dig online to find the renters true name. Tony looks thru my bathroom, opens my fridge, the cabinets, and even removes the comforter off my bed.  
"A woman.", Tony says with smart mouth. "You can NEVER trust a woman. Like, ever."  
Mr. Rey did not like his comment and throws him a nasty look. Tony then opens the glass sliding door in the kitchen and just about had a heart attack.  
"Oh. My. God." He turns to Mr. Rey to address him. "How long has this greenhouse been here?"  
"I believe …maybe eight or nine years?"  
Tony knows the city inside and out, yet never has he ever seen a greenhouse on top of this building before or in this area.  
"Eight or nine years?!", Tony asks.  
Mr. Rey nods in agreement.  
"Reeeaaallly?", he says with an attitude.  
This got Tony really excited. He quickly leaves for the front door, and as he enters the stairway, he abruptly stops, turns around, and addresses my landlord one last time.  
"Thank you very much for your time!"

Considering this woman of interest is a mystery subject, his wife wanted in. She loves a good mystery and is terribly good at solving puzzles. As he worked his fingers along his monitors, she stands behind him and gently rests her chin on his right shoulder. Tony punches in the false name Mr. Rey provided him with, several matches show, but the background does not fit his woman.  
"I knew he was lying to me.", says Tony, under his breath.  
"You know. She'd eventually have to buy something. How about the security cameras?", says Laura, gently into his right ear, and stands back.  
"I often wonder why I even married you.", smirks Tony.  
"That's because you NEED me. We make the perfect team." Laura plants a quick kiss on his right ear and walks toward the kitchen.  
"THAT, we do.", slapping her ass before she got too far.  
Laura's suggestion was golden. There are at least eight mom and pop stores, or quick shops, within a three block radius of the building. I made it a habit to shop at each store no more than every two to three weeks, to keep my anonymity in check. Lucky for Tony, each store had active security cameras. Functioning, recording, and linked to the internet, none the less. It only took him four minutes to find me. How did he figure me out? There was a reason why he looked thru my pantry, bathroom, and fridge. Thanks to his photographic memory, he recalls three items: a quart of pink lemonade, a six-pack of plain bagels, and veggie cream cheese.  
Mom and pop stores tend to spend extra money on a good camera, due to the customer clientele of drunks and random hold ups in the wee hours of the night. The security cams are so vividly clear, you can see the exact denomination on a paper bill. Using face recognition, he locates my former self thru the Missing Persons database. And believe me, this got him really pumped.  
"A missing person?" Tony is perplexed.  
"Wow. She's been missing for ten years? And NO ONE noticed her in the big city? How is that?", says Laura, also baffled.  
He kept up with the searches online and thru all available databases on three different monitors, he found no inheritance money, or a lottery win, no divorce, no property sold, no bank accounts ….nothing.  
"No bank account. No employment. Nothing, since her disappearance. She must be going by an alias.", Tony mumbles." He stares at an old picture of me, when I was in college, and shakes his head in bewilderment. "Looks like another visit to Mr. Rey is in order."

That same day, Tony stopped at Mr. Rey's small cottage home. It is early in the evening and Mr. Rey is not amused to see Tony at his front door steps.  
"Mr. Rey? I'm sorry to bother you once more. I just wanted to know if the lady, whom lives in the apartment with the busted greenhouse, if she paid you rent?", he asks with extra kindness and smiles.  
"Why, yes. Of course she pays me rent."  
"Did she pay with a personal check?"  
"No. Cash. Monthly and on time. What is this about?", asks Mr. Rey, clearly becoming bothered with Tony's questions.  
"Does she work?"  
"Umm. I don't know. I never asked."  
"You never ran a background check on her?", Tony asks with care to keep his smile going and a kind demeanor.  
"She came to me, oh, almost 10 years ago? Looking for a place to live. She saw my ad in the paper, paid the first and last month's rent upfront in cash. Said she was starting over and wanted her privacy. She seemed quite nice and even willing to fix up the place herself with her own money. She pays on time, every month. She's quiet. Brings no trouble. Best renter I've ever had."  
"The name you gave me? It does not check out. May I have her name. Please?" Tony continues his smile, but spoke in a serious tone.  
Mr. Rey looks down, smiles, and looks back at Tony.  
"Jules Harper."  
Tony returns to his place, makes a drink, and sips his whiskey a few times in heavy thought, devising a mission for tomorrow.

I have a mystery of my own I want to solve. The man whom fell into my greenhouse. The brown leather coat and pants, silver-haired, midnight blue-eyed mystery. My separation from the city left me to think less of him these days, for he is no longer an issue. His brother took him back to their Kingdom, shortly after Tony interrogated him, and was ordered by their Father of no travels outside of their homeland. Just because he wasn't allowed to leave did not stop him from conjuring up his magic to do so. It was about six months Earth time, when my silver-haired man returned incognito to Chicago, looking for my ass. He never found me. The Guardian, monitoring traffic in and out of their Kingdom, caught a glance of my beautiful stranger downtown. Once again, his brother returned him home, and this time his Father imprisoned him.

Sunny, cloudless days in the Aleutians are essentially a miracle or an act of God. As a child, days like this were declared 'Sunshine Liberty Day'. Those whom could afford to leave work to enjoy the weather, did. Unfortunately, the rule did not apply to the school district. Nothing is harder to a child than trying to sit still in class on a completely cloudless day. Days like this are golden. Among the tall reed grass of NORPAC Hill, I lay down upon my back and gaze at the passing cotton balls of clouds against the crystal blue sky. The blue background reminds me of the color of my hair, the day I met my dark-eyed marvel. So strange, my hair color …for it was always a color I wished to have in my late teens and in college. I never had the opportunity to dye my hair blue, thanks to my employer's dress code. Apparently, blue is NOT a natural color. The blue hue of my skin was a bit freakish, along with the weird yellowish veins. Possibly my skin was lacking oxygen. Golden eyes and pink irises? It was very hard to look at myself in the mirror and accept what I saw. I think I was just so damn overwhelmed. Everything about my body, in those few minutes, was beyond accepting. It was hard to believe …my reality was skewed and fucked up.  
I close my eyes and listen to the wild Aleutian winds cut thru the blades of green around my head. A crazy whistle flows around my ears, along with the rhythmic thunder of heavy waves upon Kuluk Beach. Nine long blissful months of quiet time for me to recoup from my nightmare, and I look forward to many more days of peace. I begin to wonder why I never choose to live here in the first place. Adak is perfection! Oh, glorious and lonely peace! I smile heavily at the sky, eyes closed, palms down on the rocky ground and legs slightly apart. My mind slowly drifts away, nearly asleep. I'm at peace, yet so alone. So very, very alone.  
"It's like finding a diamond in the rough!", exclaims Tony Stark.  
I immediately open my eyes to see a man, upside down in metallic armor, standing directly over my head. My eyes grow, realizing whom is hovering over me, and like mad I scramble to my feet and take off running.  
"SHIT!!!"  
I bolt down the hillside, on my two feet. Why I run but not fly, I cannot explain. It's absolutely ridiculous for me to run, when I can gain terrific distance from Stark with flight. I guess it is a natural fight or flight reaction. Or, possibly a habit to keep my secrets under wraps from society.  
"Where are you going? C'mon, we JUST met! We have SOOOO MUUUUCH catching up to do!", he bolsters.  
I'm running down the hill like a bat out of hell, turning my head back every so often to check for distance, breathing harder and harder. It actually feels refreshing to escape naturally, on my two feet. I feel …normal! It feels so damn good, I'm now laughing! I turn my head once more to check my distance from him. He lands directly in my line of fire, causing me to literally smash into his metal chest as I still look back. He doesn't budge. I run right into a metal wall, bringing forth golden stars behind my eye lids for a few seconds. He grips both my arms to keep me standing upright, and as I come to, I see a new enemy staring upon my own with great fierceness. I shift my eyes to the left, keeping them on Mt. Moffitt, feeling disgusted to allow myself to fall prey to what most people praise as their superhero. As I begin to formulate an escape plan, I decide to pick up a quick read of his emotional state. I am taken back by his sincerity and concerns for me. That is, he searched for me with great concern for my wellbeing. I lay my eyes on the beautiful snow covered sleeping giant and ponder how he found me.  
"I'm here to help you.", he says with intent.  
My heart begins to pump overtime, and the hairs stand up on end upon my forearms. Panic ensues.   
_'Why does he want to help me? I don't want his help. I don't want anyone's help!'  
_ "You will eventually be discovered. You know that, right? So. With that said, I am offering you a major package deal. And believe me, coming from me? This is like a once in a lifetime special."  
His grip remains on my upper arms, just enough for me to move around but not enough freedom for an escape from the machine. I move my eyes down upon the grass and watch it sway in the winds. I feel much more disappointed in myself, and at this point in the game, I stop formulating an escape plan. I feel like giving up, which is a feeling I never had in my ten years of solitude. Clearly, I am so very tired of running away from my life. I'm tired of living scared. I'm growing tired of fighting my secrecy, my fake life. Yet, at the same time, I want to continue this escapade. I want to continue living the denial of existence. I've been so Goddamn good at it, why not another ten more years?  
Tony notices my body is much more relaxed, my arms no longer stiff as boards. My whole body feels like putty, or wet cornstarch. Under pressure, wet cornstarch is a solid. In a relaxed state, it is a liquid, and that is how I currently feel. I can just about melt in between his metal fingers, right about now.  
"I know about your specialties. I understand why you live this way. But, I am offering you a BETTER way of life. I offer you a life of normalcy with TOTAL protection."  
I shake my head and laugh in disbelief. Total protection? Normalcy?  
"How about it?", he asks.  
I turn my head to finally look upon his smiling, goofy face.  
"Total protection from what, exactly?", I ask.  
Tony moves his head back slightly with a quizzical look.  
"From society."  
"Wrong answer.", I snap.  
"You tell me, then. What or whom are you hiding from? Huh? What is your greatest fear? Is it discovery? The Government? Because, like I said, it's just a matter of …".  
"Government. You know. The men in black suits. I don't want to become some king of guinea pig. An experiment. Living in closed quarters, a cage, somewhere deep underground with no contact with the outside world. To be …forgotten.", I answer, looking at his metallic chest, voice quivering.  
"How is this life you currently live any different? You essentially live in your own prison."  
Good point, Mr. Asshole. Well said. Well said.  
He let go of my arms, takes several steps back, and brings his left knee to the ground as to propose to me. I tap into his emotions and continue to read sincerity and compassion …determination to win me over. He truly wants to help me. I think.  
"I'm NOT your trophy.", I sneer, feeling testy.  
His eyebrows curl at my statement. I don't believe he liked what I just said. He stands up, begins to walk backwards with open arms to his sides, and shouts.  
"Have it your way! You want to continue a life of misery? Loneliness? Selfishness? Your call. Just saying." He turns his back to me, fifteen feet away. "Last chance!"  
He is right on all accounts. I AM tired of living alone. Breaking down in a crying fit, as the silver haired beauty touched my skin to wipe away his blood, confirmed my sadness of social deprivation. I suppose it is rather selfish of me to not share my gifts with the world. Mr. Asshole is on key, yet I am too embarrassed to admit my failure and answer him. The silence of our voices and the howling winds and music of Aleutian reed grass is indeed awkward and it feels like twenty minutes passed instead of two. I know, if I agree to his offer, my life will take a major directional change. How will I adjust? Will I survive? Is he …just pulling my leg? Maybe this is a trap. You know? My life was pretty hunky dory, until his ass showed up.   
_'Wait just a sec.'_  
"How …exactly …were you able to find me?"  
"TIMES UP!", he yells and takes off like a fucking rocket.  
 _'Damn it! Damn it to Hell!'_ , I curse heavily within.  
I pace, bounce up and down on my midfoot, grab my hairs …I break out into a sweat. Follow him or not? Follow or stay?  
"Fuck it!"  
I take off with great might to catch up with him, which I did. He was in my sight, yet far, when I left the island. Catching up to him made me feel pretty damn good and proud of myself. I never chased planes or birds, let along a man in flying armor. Geezus …I love firsts! Smiling at the sight of him well ahead, I begin to feel a happiness I rarely experience. I actually feel happy. Truly happy.  
"Oh, no you didn't!", I murmur.  
Tony pulls a maneuver and changes direction quite abruptly, flying straight down to the ocean. I follow suit, keeping my distance of approximately a mile behind him. The Pacific Ocean quickly creeps up in view below. He makes another quick maneuver, flying horizontal to the surface, maybe a few miles high. I follow, laughing now, for I find this very entertaining. He makes another quick directional change of ninety degrees, straight toward the surface of the ocean.  
"He knows I'm following him!", I say with a big smile.  
 _'Is he testing me? Checking out my agility in flight?'_  
All of a sudden, he enters the ocean. I hover over the angry Pacific, waves twenty feet high pass over, and I see nothing but the same dark blue of my mystery man's eyes below. Frantically, I look across the horizon. Possibly he exited elsewhere? Several minutes elapse and there is no sign of him, anywhere. Disappointed, I rise up and head Southwest. I'll just fly back to Chicago and meet him at his eyesore of a building, Stark Towers.  
  
I take my time, flying across the deep blue, just shy of thirty feet above the surface. I take it easy, so I can have time to think this over. You know, like, what if he nixes his offer? I need to formulate a plan. I need a plan 'B'. A back-up plan. Where to live, just incase he tells me to fuck off. If only I had the ability to live outside our world. Like, on Mars or something. I'll even move to the Moon. Anywhere desolate.  
"And I thought you'd never say _'Yes'_."  
His presence startled me. I was so started I lost my concentration, and therefore, my ability to fly. He was only a few feet away from me in flight, when I lost my focus and fell thirty feet. Hitting the surface of the water at that height is like landing on concrete. Tony did not believe I would fall into the ocean, so he never followed me. He just figured I would start flying again.  
The impact knocks me out cold. I recall it hurting like a motherfucker and nothing more. The air leaving my clothing and rising away from my body created such a noise that it awoke me. I see the tiny bubbles rise away from my body and our yellow star becomes more and more distant, for the dark abyss below pulls me down to consume me. It is a strange yet comforting feeling, this sinking. I focus my mind upon my body, as to inventory my damages, and find my collar bone broken, fractured my two upper vertebrate, broke both arms and my right foot, and broke several of my ribs. My lungs feel to be set on fire, as they compress from the increasing depth and from my broken ribs. Our star is leaving me ever so quickly. It is a beautiful sight. I close my eyes and wait for the bright white light to set forth. You know, the white light people speak of when death sets in? The crossing over? In a flash, I recall the event in my apartment of the intense white light which emanated from my pendant.  
At this point, Tony fishes me out of the sea and has me cradled in his metallic arms. He is yelling at me to awake, cursing up a storm, and shaking me furiously. All this time, I continue to see the bright light shine from my pendant, but witnessing this as a third person. I am outside my body, in my apartment, watching what occurred the very moment my pendant went crazy. I see the man in brown leather drop the dishcloth in total disbelief. I also feel his emotions, that he recognizes or knows what or who I am. My eyes are as wide as they can be, in sheer panic. I yell that I cannot see. My skin of my hands and forearm change from the dark peach to a dark blue. My long hair is dark blue with chunks of light blue mixed in. My hair is so beautiful, yet so very bizarre. The most memorable vision are my eyes. Unbelievable golden eyes with a pink iris. With my eyes wide open in shock, I am able to get a really good glance. My silver-haired man moves forward, in response to my panic that I cannot see, and with both hands, he gently removes my right hand away from my pendant. It looked like I had a death grip upon my pendant, yet his very touch causes me to let go. As I release the pendant, the bright light diminishes from the blue stone. I watch myself leap on to my bed to bypass the mystery man and bolt into the bathroom. He watches me carefully, and his expression was of shock …almost the same expression I carry. It's that _'Oh my God, what the fuck!'_ look. I float to the bathroom door, peek in, and see myself look into the mirror. I also get a glimpse of my pendant and the stone, which is slowly loosing its glow.  
"Damn it, Jules! Wake up!" Tony screams at me, as he heads back to Chicago.  
I hear a man yelling, what sounds like from outside my apartment. How puzzling, for I do not recall anyone yelling outside of my apartment the day of the event. More flowery curses. More yelling. The man's voice is much louder now. I float away from the bathroom door and toward the glass sliding door to investigate. The man in leather was watching myself walk out of the bathroom and toward the standing mirror. All of a sudden, he quickly turns to look at me, at the door, and looks dead on with his piercing dark midnight blue eyes. My God, he can see me?! It is enough to scare the living daylights out of me! His eyes lock into mine, as the third person in my dream, scaring me so badly, it forces me to regain consciousness.  
"Oh, thank God! Thank you God!", Tony cries, watching my eyes open.  
He stops to hover over the Nevada desert, cradling me with his mask open, and I think I see tears stream down his face. It is hard to tell, for all I know it could be sea water from his wet hair. I am in a shit load of pain and keeping alert is burdensome. So much so, I am having a hell of a time self-diagnosing and healing. I do what I can, as he nears Chicago. I believe he spoke to me several times in flight, but I only heard random words for I focused my attention on my injuries and healing. The entire flight took maybe five minutes, tops? Pretty good timing, but I am sure I could beat it by a mile.

I don't recall anything more, before getting to Chicago and from when I awoke the next afternoon. I awake to a very cheerful female voice, yelling for Tony. In his huge ass home atop one of many tall buildings near the lakefront, I find myself in bed to what appears to be a guest bedroom. My body is terribly sore, likely my muscles, and I close my eyes to focus on healing the troublesome spots. Healing takes up a lot of my energy, and naturally my mind puts me back asleep so I may recover from both my injuries and to restore my energy.  
Tony kept his word. No one but he and his wife Laura knows about my existence. The room I found myself in becomes my bedroom, one floor above the living space. Laura noted my measurements, as I slept soundly, and with Tony's hard-earned cash, she shopped heavily on clothing for myself. My closet is chocked with a plethora of cute dresses, jeans, tees, a cute pair of black Mary Jane's, and of course, underwear and bras. I threw away my dingy jeans, sweatshirt, and boots for good.  
  
Grilled chicken strips, asparagus, and little fingerling potatoes are placed upon my dinner plate, courtesy of Laura's cooking. I sit with them, still embarrassed over the nature of my discovery.  
"Don't be shy. Eat up. You are rather thin, anyway. You could use some meat on them bones.", Tony says with humor.  
He is right. My diet was poor to none, living on Adak. Canned food, fresh fish, bread …it got old real fast. I kept busy walking miles a day in the tundra, exploring old standing quonset huts to bird watching. I ate only when I felt the need, which was almost never, it seemed. I clean my plate well and drink down all the delicious red wine.  
"Ready for a fun filled day?", he asks me, grabbing his wine glass.  
I cock my head to the side, expressing confusion. Is he referring to tonight or tomorrow?  
"I got stuff lined up for us both to do. Tomorrow."  
I raise my eyebrows and smile a bit, and look down at my hands resting upon my lap.  
"Are you always this quiet?", he asks with a hint of curiosity.  
I do not answer and continue to look upon my hands, remembering how blue they were almost a year ago. I did not speak much the first week. I did all the listening and Tony did all the talking.

The very next morning, he explains his plan of having me tag along with, invisible, to aid him with deep sea welding. He has a contract with one of the big oil refineries for difficult welding jobs. Currently, specialized submarines are used for the task, but with Tony's specialized underwater suit, he can do the job in hours than in days. He has one underlying issue, when it comes to deep sea welding: the pressure. After 750 feet, his body begins to experience nausea from the deep pressures, even though the pressure within his suit is that of sea level. He believes it may be the darkness bringing on anxiety, but nevertheless, he can only stay underwater for fifteen minutes before freaking out and puking in his suit.  
"You can heal, right?", he asks.  
I nod yes.  
"You think …you can join me underwater? Like, attach to my side …with your magic you do to keep me alert and free of nausea?" He looks desperate.  
I turn my head for a second and think about it. Can I use my barrier to keep me dry, breathing, and free from the pressures of the deep sea?  
"Can we have a trial run? I've never used my barrier underwater. If it works for me, then your answer is yes."  
He smiles, clapped his hands hard and rubs them.  
"The deepest part of the lake is around 900 feet. Let's do a trial run here.", says Tony, all smiles. I nod and smile to agree, for I look forward to the new challenge.  
"Gimme a minute to change into something more comfortable.", he snickers and disappears down a metal staircase behind his bar.  
I let out a 'hmph', walk out to the patio, and wait for him to appear in his shining armor. It didn't take long. A circular door upon on the patio, marked off with a yellow square stripe around it, opens up and spits out Tony.  
 _'Vanish'  
_ I grab a hold of his back, do the double tap to his right ear to advise _'I'm on board'_ , and he rockets out far over Lake Michigan. My eyes light up in delight! Never in my life would I have imagined myself riding on America's superhero. Ironically, the very one I've always despised. As we arrive over the location, he shouts out.  
"Ready when you are."  
 _'Appear. Protection for Tony and I.'  
_ A ball of orange surrounds us.  
"Can you see the orange light?", I ask out of curiosity.  
"No. But it's working?", he asks.  
"Let's find out. Go slow, alright?"  
He lowers slowly, breaking the surface, and we both remain within the dry sphere with no changes in air pressure.  
"Oh yeeeaah. I see it now!"  
"Give me our distance.", I ask.  
"64 feet."  
The sphere holds. A minute later, we have entered complete darkness and his floodlights activate.  
"Distance?", I ask.  
"305 feet. How are we doing?"  
"I feel good. And you?", I ask.  
"375 feet and feeling fantastic!"  
We descend silently into the lake into an eerie neon green.  
"STOP!", I holler and he stops. I put my right hand out, close my eyes, and focus on the barrier, imagining it to be stronger, thicker, safer for us both.  
"Are we good?", asks Tony.  
"It was beginning to flex. I gave it some more juice. We're good. Keep going."  
We descend, now at 750 feet.  
"STOP!", I shout, and he stops.  
I make another adjustment, increasing the strength of the barrier.  
"Proceed.", I say with confidence.  
Minutes later, he slows our decent.  
"We are now at 890 feet. Should hit bottom shortly. How's it going in your neck of the woods?"  
"I'm good. And you?", I ask.  
"Feels weird, not having to deal with the pressure. Awkwaaaard.", he jokes.  
Then came a thump of his armor. I keep my hands on his upper back as he walks the silty floor, stirring up the sediment.  
"This is a strange experience. We're deep. We're dry.", he says quietly, as if in deep thought. "Now …when I have to approach a pipe, how does the barrier respond?"  
"It should accept it. We can test this closer to the surface.", I share.  
"Good idea. I'm not in the mood to implode, anyway.", he jokes. "Let's run the second test.", and slowly we ascend.  
It was incredible, watching the darkness slowly open up above to a lime green hazy sky. As we break the surface, he speaks loudly.  
"We'll hit the harbor, use the boats in the docks. Keep it simple."  
 _'Vanish'_

We tested as deep as 25 feet, and the barrier accepted solid objects with no issues. I imagine it will hold in deep waters as well, which excites Tony. So much so, he changes out of his suit and leaves to grab Chinese for dinner with Ben and Jerry's ice cream. Laura is yet to come home from work. I put on a pair of shorts and a tee, turn on the radio in the living room, and dance to whatever plays. I got the music cranked and I'm rocking it.  
Bruce Banner stops by.  
He stops just outside of the elevator lobby and looks around for either Tony or Laura. Capturing my sight, he proceeds slowly ahead to watch me grind. He has never seen me at Tony's before, questions my presence, who was I, and why am I grinding my ass alone in Tony's. He becomes mesmerized by my movements, finds my long brunette hair a turn on, and only catches a short glimpse of my face with eyes closed, when I turn in my dancing.  
A song ends and I walk over to one of his posh evergreen cushy living room chairs, push it up to the window, and lean back with my right bare foot up on the glass. I let out a big sigh and relax, humming to the next song. Five minutes later, I'm taking a nap.  
Bruce proceeds into the living room, slowly towards my chair, for he is inquisitive and craves a closer look.  
 _'She looks familiar.'_ , he thinks to himself.  
The elevator dings, making him jump a bit, and Tony enters with a bounty of plastic bags in each hand.  
"Hey, bro. Got Chinese for dinner. Interested? I even got some cold BJ's …oh."  
Bruce points at me, standing behind just five feet shy, and mouths quietly, "Who is she?"  
Tony shakes his head in an embarrassing smile for Bruce to come forth, realizing the critical and sensitive nature of discovery. He whispers, as the radio plays in the background to mask their conversation.  
"Ah …you didn't see her. I need you to skedaddle.", says a nervous Tony.  
"Jesus Christ, Tony! You're having an affair?!", Bruce says in a loud whisper and upset.  
"No. No. No affair! Ah …I will talk to you tomorrow. Okay? How about lunch? My treat."  
Just as Bruce is walking to the elevator lobby with Tony, Laura steps out of the elevator.  
"Hi Bruce!"  
Her warm smiles carries her into the living room, stops to see the foot up on the glass, and questions my behavior in her grin. Bruce interprets her expression differently.  
"Yeah. I'll be going now.", says an uncomfortable Bruce.  
"Do I smell Chinese?", asks Laura.  
"Yes. And frozen BJ's.", says Tony.  
"Bruce. Please stay for dinner. You know Tony always orders too much food."  
Tony shakes his head _'no'_ , but she insists.  
"I can't imagine she'd get upset. I mean, come on. This is Bruce we're talking about.", says Laura.  
She grabs a few of the plastic bags out of Tony's right hand and proceeds to the kitchen countertop. Bruce eyes Tony with a look of confusion.

Chinese containers line up on the table, plates are out, and Tony approaches me. He shakes the chair, awaking me in a bit of surprise.  
"Dinner is served."  
"Oh. Cool. Thanks.", I say with a big stretch. "I'm going to the bathroom."   
I float up and follow the long transparent wall of windows, which ends to a hallway. Bruce's eyes narrow, his mouth falls open, and turns to Tony.  
"She just?"  
Tony smiles, grabs the carton with orange chicken, and pours it liberally on to his plate.  
I leave the bathroom and hear an awesome song, float upside down with my bare feet upon the ceiling, and dance towards the kitchen.  
"So, are we set for our dive expedition?", I ask Tony, dancing along. My long hair flows upside down and sways as I dance, mesmerizing Bruce once more, and he now chuckles at my behavior.  
"All systems go!", says Tony.  
"Yeah!" I cheer.   
I am SO looking forward to my new adventure. Life has been awesome, so far, full of challenge, fun, and surprise. I'm learning more about my abilities. No doubt if Tony never showed up to take me in, I'd be a hermit still, bored out of my wits. I push off, do a slow flip, and land next to his countertop with all of his monitors. I freeze, my smile wipes clean, and stare at the stranger sitting at the table with my new family. I swallow hard, shoot a hard disapproval to Tony. My hands are flexing into fists and my breathing escalates. Tony senses my anger, leaves his chair, and approaches with both hands opened to calm me. He stands in my way to see the unwelcome sight.  
"You never cleared this meeting with me!", I say with anger, tip toeing to my right to get another glance of the salt and pepper haired man.  
"I don't have to. He's a trusted friend."  
"YOUR friend. Not mine.", I harshly speak.  
"My trusted friend is your trusted friend. Come on. Let's finish dinner so we can celebrate our day with ice cream. I got …".   
Tony turns around, walks back to the table, and continues to flap his mouth. I pay no attention, gaze at the man who is smiling shyly at Laura and then to Tony, and take a reading. He is brilliant, shy, soft, and mysterious …not a bad bone in him.  
 _'No way. Oh my God. This …this is the same guy from the book store!'_ , I say excitedly within.  
I slowly walk to the table, look at my empty chair, and contemplate if I want to move it away from the man.  
"Hi. I'm Bruce Banner.", he says, stands up and his right hand reaches out to shake mine.  
I shake his hand, feeling his energy meld with my own for a moment in his gentle grip, and we take our seats. I say nothing, for I'm now in shock and feeling terribly bashful.   
_'Is this World that small? This is unbelievable!'_  
"Small world, isn't it?", Bruce asks me.  
 _'Did I just read his mind, or did he read my own? What the heck?!'  
_ "Ah, I suppose?", I answer, shyly.  
Laura takes her right hand and lightly nudges Tony's left thigh to signal _'Are you paying attention to this?'_ . Tony looks at both of us with interest, then to Bruce. He mouths quietly, "Is this the book store girl?" as I grab the container of white rice.

Apparently, after Bruce met me the first time, he could not resist to share his encounter with Tony. Of course, Tony insisted he hang out at the bookstore more often, so that he could run into me once.  
"Ask her out for lunch.", Tony said.  
"I don't know. Don't you think that's all too sudden? I mean, I only met her once."  
"Then …buy her coffee." Tony spoke nonchalantly as he dicked around with a pile of wires and metal plates.  
"That's not a bad idea.", Bruce says, shrugging his shoulders.  
Tony had tried to hook Bruce up with ladies for years on end. Dates lead to simple conversations and one to a hug, but never anything more. Tony jokes to Bruce that his prolonged sexless life has turned him into a born again virgin.  
When Bruce saw me the second time, he noticed I already had coffee to drink. He thought over Tony's suggestion to ask me out for lunch, and had I not left so abruptly, he would have. My sudden leave crushed him, causing him to think he had done something wrong. _  
__'Did I say something? Did I offend her in some way?'_   
He never thought about me again. Yet here he sits at dinner, next to the same girl he developed a crush for.

The boys begin to talk about tomorrow's dive in the Gulf of Mexico and our successful test run. Tony is terribly excited his nausea was a non issue in today's dive. I smile, bashfully, for I do not care to be the center of attention. I forfeit ice cream and head to my room to rest early.  
"What? No ice cream? C'mon, Jules. It's Ben and Jerry's! I got that Phish stuff you like so much.", says Tony.  
"I'd like to get rested early for tomorrow. I'll eat it after work.", I smile at the three and leave down the hall.  
I just wanted to get out of there. I'm so embarrassed and sweaty from being so fucking nervous, sitting next to Bruce. I probably stink to high heaven! As I get to my room, I kick myself for not even saying _'nice to meet you'_ or _'good night'_ to Bruce.  
"I really am hopeless. I swear. I'll be single until death."

Working the ball of protection during our trial run used a lot of my energy. If we're going to be deeper in the ocean, I want to be in tip top shape and well rested. I take a quick shower, throw on my jams, and grab my iPod. I turn on Brennisteinn, loudly, and lay on my back to meditate. I find myself floating above the Aleutian reed grass of NORPAC Hill and think about the deep sea dive. I take off in flight over Kuluk Bay, put up my barrier, and break the the surface hard. It holds. My descend is fast, testing the barrier, strengthening it as I continue to enter the abyss without stopping. No longer able to see, I stop my decent, float in complete darkness for a moment, and soak in the deathly quiet. I'm at peace, once more. The song ends, but I remain in place, close my eyes, and drift off to sleep. As I create the barrier in my dream I also did the same, as I lay in bed. Tony slowly opens my door to say goodnight and is taken back to the orange sphere around me. He does not question it, and leaves the door slightly ajar.

Morning. 4am. Tony pushes my door open to find the orange sphere around me yet.  
"Jules?"  
He approaches, puts his right index finger to it, and enters with ease. He pulls it out, and it's wet. He smells it, tastes it, and his eyes widen. It tastes and smells like the ocean.  
"Jules! Jules, can you hear me?!" Worry falls over him.  
I stir awake, find myself in blackness, and Tony's voice echoes around me. Focused on his voice, I am confused to how his voice has entered the depth of Kuluk Bay. I ascend, break the surface hard, release my barrier, and fly back to the hill in heavy winds and rains. The barrier around me in my room dissipates.   
"Jules! Wake up!", he yells.  
I stir awake, refreshed, stretch out and yawn hard. I remove the protection away from me and spot a worried man.  
"Are you okay?", asks a worried Tony.  
I put my hands behind my head, let go a smirk, and sigh.  
"Are you ready for a funtastic adventure?", I ask.  
"I was BORN ready.", he boasts.  
"Good answer." I smile and get dressed. He waits in the kitchen, coffee ready for the taking.

Getting to our target was a no brainer, and never once did he have to stop. We constantly checked on each other verbally, cracking a few jokes, as we descended.  
"Go slow.", I advise, as he approaches the pipe in question.  
It's huge, at least two feet wide and rusty orange. It enters our sphere, but an immediate problem comes to mind.  
"Tony?"  
"Yes?"  
"When you weld, does it not create toxic fumes?"  
He lowers his electrode.  
"Fuck me.", he says with a bit of prissy.  
"If I can bend the barrier so it exists before of the pipe with just us in it, can you weld with ONLY the tools in the water? You'll need to keep your body within the barrier. I don't know what will happen if you leave it."  
"Yeah. Give it a try."  
I visualize in my mind the barrier sphere change to a 'U' shape, bending back to us to leave the pipe itself in water. The change in the energy field does not take much manipulation and my power, but I do take notice it wants to return to its natural spherical shape. Concerns arise to how much expense it will take out of me.  
"How long is the job?"  
"25 minutes, tops.", he says, already at work.  
"Okay."  
Fighting the manipulated sphere is taking more energy than I anticipated. I grow tired physically and mentally, much to quickly.   
"How much longer?"  
"10"  
"Okay."  
Shit. My hands are shaking, my throat dry, and a headache is coming on. Hurry up!  
"Tony?"  
"Two minutes."  
 _'I can do this!'_  
The barrier begins to flex, and Tony takes notice.  
"Almost done! You alright?"  
I can't answer. I'm too focused on my energy and the barrier, keeping it as stable as possible. He finishes the job and takes off to ascend. I return the sphere to its normal state but I struggle to keep it together. He knows this, for my heavy breathing is a dead giveaway. As we rise, hope fills me when the ocean above presses its radiant light blues upon us.  
 _'Appear'_. Just in case I fail or fall from our exit ...he can't help me if he can't find me.  
"Twenty seconds!", he yells.  
Too long. I hold my breath, forcing the last bit of energy from my body. With my vision now wavering, I look up to see the vast glorious rays of sunlight pierce thru the blue waters, reaching for us …pulling us  
 _'…save me!'  
_ He breaks thru the surface, lets out a hoorah, and stops ten feet above the moving ocean blue.  
"We totally rocked that one, Jules!"  
Silence.  
"Jules? Jarvis …".  
"She is no longer with us."  
"WHAT?!"  
"She fell off your back, as you left the ocean."  
"Damn it!", he yells, not seeing my body on the surface of the water.   
He lowers foot first and drops, catching a glimpse of me settling slowly at thirty feet. Above water, he holds me, screams my name, and panics at my blue lips.

I found myself standing in a desolate rolling green countryside. There is nothing to be seen but short green grass all around me. The sky is not of Earth, for it is daylight yet filled with noticeable stars, galaxies, and colors of gassy clouds.  
"Where am I? Am I …dead?"  
I begin to walk among the hills of grass and feel as if I am getting absolutely no where. I take a seat upon the soft ground and think over my last memories before reaching this strange land.  
  
"Breathe, God Damn it!"  
He delivers another two puffs into me, but I do not respond. He yells at my face. I don't budge.

I lay back upon the grass and examine the beautiful painting above. It appears unrealistic. Where am I, and where IS everyone? Why am I alone?  
  
"Jarvis. Can you deliver me a slight jolt to jump start her?"  
He puts his left finger tips on to my chest, above my heart.  
"Now!"

The sky changes colors, in mostly reds, and darkens to a mauve …burgundy …dark purple …then to black. My chest heaves up, then falls abruptly with me in a coughing fit. I puke sea water several times, coughing hard to capture air. All this time, Tony is praising and thanking his God for the miracle and flies home.  
"Bruce! I need you at my place. She drowned, her heart stopped, but I was able to revive her. I just need you to check her, to make sure she's alright."  
"NO, NO, NO. Take her to the hospital. She could have heart damage.", Bruce insists.  
"Not an option. We'll be back in five minutes!"  
"On my way!"

The loss of energy has me out cold, and I lay in my bed quietly with Laura by my side. Tony is pacing outside, waiting for Bruce to show.  
"Give us some privacy, please?", says Bruce.  
They both leave the bedroom with the door slightly ajar. He pulls up my t-shirt and with his stethoscope, he listens to the rattle of my lungs. I still had a bit of sea water left in me. My heart pumps strong with no indication of any shock given. All vitals check normal. This all comes to a surprise to Bruce, for someone whom was legally dead for what Tony believes had to have been five minutes, I should have signs of trauma. He checks my pulse once more, and the pressure of his thumb upon my right wrist awakens me. I pull my hand away, making him jump out of his chair in surprise.  
"I'm just checking your heart rate. Nothing more.", he says.  
I sit up, look at my bed, and then to my left at the window.  
"How did I get back here? I don't recall coming home with Tony. Where's Tony! Oh my God!", I yell in worry, pulling the covers off my legs to leave my bed.   
Tony enters the room.  
"I'm home! I'm here! Everything is kosher!", he says with a smile. "You fell off my back and blacked out. I asked Bruce to check on you, since I know you are not fond of 'public anythings'. I think hospitals would be included on your list."  
"May I check your heart and lungs again?", asks Bruce.  
I nod, rest my hands upon my bare legs. He presses the cool circular metal upon my back, asking me to take deep breaths, and listens to my heart.  
"Strong heart beat. There's still a bit of sea water in your lungs. Does it hurt to breathe?"  
I move my hands to my lower diaphragm and send out healing.  
"Listen again. To my lungs."  
He presses the stethoscope several times to my skin of my back, dumbfounded my lungs is clear of liquid.  
"What happened? Your lungs are clear."  
"I'm a healer.", I say shyly toward my hands.  
"Oh?", he says in surprise. "I've never met a healer before.", says Bruce.  
I nervously play with my fingers, hoping he'll leave soon. There's an uncomfortable silence, as he puts his medical devices back into his bag.  
"Thanks for checking up on me.", I nearly whisper.  
"Not a problem. Any time.", he says with smile.  
He leaves the room and Tony enters.  
"How's it goi…'.  
I jump out of bed and slap him on his right upper arms hard, twice.  
"Oooow!?", rubbing his sore arm.  
"You HAD to bring him here? You know I can heal!"

The incident was a learning experience for me. Every night in my room before falling asleep, I practice bending my sphere and hold it in different shapes and sizes. A week later, Tony and I return out to the Gulf for more welding work and my daily practice pays off. As we fly home, Tony makes a phone call.  
"Hi hon! We're on our way home."  
"How did it go this time?", she asks.  
"Let's just say I'm in the mood for a really good steak. How about we all hit Chi-Cut's?"  
"What's Chi-Cut's?", I ask.  
"OH. You will see. They have THE best lobster mac 'n cheese!", he cheers. "We'll be home in ten minutes."  
He ends the call and makes another.  
"Hey bud! Got plans tonight?"  
"No. Why?", asks Bruce.  
"Of course you don't, you lonely sucker. How about dinner? Laura, Jules, and myself are having Chi-Cut's."  
"Wow. Nice! Is there a reason?"  
"I just feel like celebrating our successful dive today. Jules and I hit the same Gulf job, and it went fab-u-lously!"  
He's talking to Bruce, isn't he? I can't hear the other person, but whom else would he talking to? And he's inviting him to dinner with us?  
 _'Shit. Shit-shit-shit.'_

I scan the dresses in my closet and feel hopelessly lost in my choices. What is appropriate for this restaurant?  
"Wear something nice.", Tony said to me.  
I hate dressing up nice. Damn it. I mull over the outfits and finally settle upon one fine dress.  
We arrive at the restaurant and see Bruce standing outside. His eyes immediately latches upon my body, eyebrows rising at the sight of me in a wine colored Valentino sleeveless box pleated dress. Much too expensive for my taste, but perfect for the occasion. Laura helped fix my hair up into a light bun and even applied mascara on to my eyelashes. She absolutely insisted.  
"If you're going to dress pretty, you need to look it, too.", she said to me.

"Hi.", Bruce says to me directly, smiling wide.  
"Hi.", I smile back with a light wave.  
The night air is a comfortable 75 degrees Fahrenheit for June and there is enough light out to eat on the patio. I order the cheapest dinner item, a Chicago Cut Prime Burger for $14.  
"No you're not.", says Tony. "You are getting the Alaskan Halibut."   
For $37.  
"I am?", I ask. It does sound better than the hamburger. "Change my order to what he just said. Thanks."  
"And she wants the lobster mac n' cheese, too. Vegetables to go with your plate?", asks Tony in a serious tone.  
"Yes. The steamed broccoli. Thanks."   
For another nine bucks. Christ. This place is expensive!  
"I know what you're doing, Jules. Don't shortchange yourself. I'm buying, remember?"  
I smirk and look away, setting my eyes at the Chicago River ahead. Tony raises his eyebrows at Bruce, which he narrows them back. Bruce knows what's flying thru his friend's dirty little mind and he's just not ready to take the next step.  
The mac n' cheese is too rich for my taste, but I eat most of it out of guilt. The fish is fabulous and actually made me feel a bit homesick. Halibut is readily available on Adak, and on many occasions I fished out little ones. With a small fire built of dry driftwood, I would cook them on metal rods. So delicious.  
After our dinner, Tony spoke of our day out in the Gulf and some future projects in line for us to work on. We finished a whole bottle of Flowers, which I believe I drank more glasses than the rest. The wine is nothing like any other, and my flushed cheeks and constant smiling tells the three I enjoyed it very, very much.  
We return to Tony's. Bruce also shows up to shoot the shit. The poison has relaxed me well, for I have a need to speak with the handsome man. I want to know more about him. I fix my eyes upon his back, watch his body move as he spoke to Tony at the bar, and listened to him with intent. Tony slowly peers over Bruce's left shoulder, finds me slouched back into the leather couch and staring at Bruce.  
"I think you need to make your move.", says Tony, quietly.  
"What?", Bruce asks in confusion.  
"She's been staring you down like a fox waiting outside a rabbit hole. I think she wants you.", raising his eyebrows up and down several times.  
"What! C'mon, man.", he hushes back.  
"What's the matter with you? Can't you see you both have this, this thing going on? You both have a love of science.", he says using invisible quotation marks for the word 'science'. "She's been eyeing you all night, acting bashful. You? No different. OBVIOUSLY you both want to jump each other's bones. So go DO something about it!"  
Tony ends his statement in obvious frustration. Bruce shakes his head, smiling hard, for Tony is clearly desperate to hook him up. That's when I see him turn and deliver the attention I've begged for all night. With his eyes locked with mine, jolting me in surprise, I quickly move my eyes away to the left and view the city thru the windows. He gets out of his chair, approaches the couch, and takes a seat to my right.  
"So. Are you like your own personal Doctor? Since you can heal?", he asks.  
"Ah. Yeah? I suppose?"  
I clasp my hands together and fumble my fingers around nervously.  
"Your kind will put Physicians out of business.", he says with a slight giggle.  
I look at him and smile lightly.  
"What's your practice?"  
"I don't. I used to. I changed careers. Now I play with lasers, big magnets ...computers. I'm a physicist."  
"Oh wow. So …you do know something about Tesla, then.", I say with a greater and more relaxed smile, fixing my slouched posture to sit up straight in attention.  
For another hour, Bruce and I sat upon the couch together. He did all the talking and I listened with great interest to his life's career. Clearly, he has been desperate to talk to someone who will listen and honesty give a fuck, for he talked my ear off. I don't think he even took a breath of air. The dynamics were perfect for me, for I had nothing to share with him anyway. My past is off limits.  
As he begins his leave to the elevator lobby, he asks me a question.  
"Would you like to do lunch together? I don't know what your schedule is …".  
"Hey Tony! Are we working tomorrow?", eagerly I shout.  
"Yeah."  
I look back to Bruce and shrug my shoulders.  
"We'll figure something out.", he says.  
We stand there with smiling eyes to each other, and my heart begins to flutter and heat up. I blink a few times, feeling a need to flee from the coming rapture.  
"See ya.", he says, walking to the elevator.  
"Yah. Later.", I say in a near whisper, for my chest is tight.

I continue to tag along on other jobs, in cloak mode and riding upon his back, per his request. If he got hurt? I healed him on the spot. I even learned how to divert my energy into his armor to boost his energy level, increasing his performance. Laura is very supportive of my help to Tony and as his work partner. One night, he spoke of many stories of BlackOps-D, his sour relationship with them, and his distrust of the organization. He is not on their payroll, but will work missions for them, time to time. He threw out a bunch of names, which none I personally knew but heard of. Some names were of myths and fairy tales! I never would have suspected any of the mythological characters actually existed. But then again, look at what I am capable of.

Since I was in the third grade, I had a strong interest in Greek mythology. So strong, I really believed the Greek Gods and Goddesses once existed. Later in life, I read about the Roman Gods and the Norse Gods. Their stories were all to similar, yet told by completely different cultures and at a different times. Coincidence? No, for I do not believe in coincidences. The mere fact these Gods and Goddesses, with the same stories, similar characters yet different names, tells me they DID exist. And they were giants. Huge creatures. So were the Sumerians. Sumerians were responsible for the pyramids across our World. So, it came to no surprise, when Tony shared names of several Norse Gods he had met. I believe him. This also brought much relief to me, for it solidified my belief structure, which I do not nor ever viewed as a religion.  
He also admitted he had NO idea what my abilities were, when he met me on NORPAC Hill. It was one of Tony's smooth moves. I don't think Tony is normal. I mean, look at his successes. His toys and gadgets. He is clearly beyond normal. He is a fucking genius.  
It's been six months, since Tony took me in. Six months of true happiness. I learned a lot about my abilities thru my strength and weaknesses, and enjoy sharing my gift with him to get the jobs done. But perfection never lasts, nor does happiness. My life literally takes a turn from good to exceptionally bad. It was this moment which broke Tony's heart, taking me off the roster as a Human being, and ending our working relationship.


	5. I Do This For God

Tony has the hippest flat in town. Who else could say they can sit on a patio chair with a good book, hundreds of feet above with a fantastic city view? Me.  
I’ve got all the sunshine I can muster. The only thing I am missing is a roaming bartender in tight skivvies. It’s days like this, I enjoy my solace once more. Such sweet freedom, peace, and quiet. When I am not needed to work with Tony, it’s just me and a good book, or my Sudoku, or my knitting needles and a ball of yarn. Music? Heck yeah! I always have the volume cranked. At this height, it’s just me and the Gods dancing.

I am engrossed in this book about Prometheus, one of the wisest of all Titans. He stole fire from Zeus, giving it to Mankind as a gift and supposedly created Man out of clay by taking his breath and blowing life into clay figurines. He was cunning, deceitful, a weak healer, and could see the future. Prometheus was a bad boy, and I have a weakness for trouble. I wasn’t aware Zeus wanted to destroy Mankind, yet thanks to Prometheus, he told his son Deucalion of the coming flood and ordered to have a large boat built to save humanity. Like the story of Noah and the Ark …the flood …how coincidental.

My life is so much different today than six months ago. How quickly my days went from uncertainty to normalcy, and I am no longer alone. For the first time in over ten years, I have friends in my life and people I can trust. I even have an interest in Tony’s friend, Bruce Banner. Tony doesn’t need my help today, so Bruce is taking me out to lunch.

11:00a. I have been sitting outside since 9am. I look into the mirror and notice my nose is a bit pink.  
“Damn. Who’d think the sun was strong enough so early in the day.”  
I rub my nose to heal, and the pink is all but gone.  
I pick out a sleeveless emerald/black lace dress and throw on my black Mary Janes. As I am brushing my hair, I hear Bruce yelling for me downstairs. My heart flutters, just like the night when we all went out to dinner at Chi-Cuts, and a heat comes on down yonder. I wave my right hand at my chest to cool and make my way to the living room.  
His stare falls upon my size B’s, then down to my bare knees and well sized calves, and his mouth falls open in his smile. He is absorbed by my beauty.  
“Hi!”, I say, so very happy to see him once again.  
“Hi! Ready?”  
“Yeah!”  
“How does sushi sound?”, he asks.  
“Oh my God. I LOVE sushi!”, I answer nearly giddy.  
“Good! So do I! I’ll take you to my favorite …”.  
My mind begins to drift into lala land and I hear nothing more of his discussion of the restaurant he is taking me to. He noted my favorite food, I’m going to have lunch with my eye candy, and that’s enough to land me on cloud nine.

Lunch at Toro’s in Lincoln Park was fantastic! We sat there for nearly two hours with him doing most of the talking, again. He spoke with such gusto, he gave me the impression he’d been alone for so long, his mind sings forth his life stories. He spoke of his work and personal projects, which he does most at home, and his stories of work with BlackOps-D. Like Tony, he shares the same views of the organization but in greater distrust. He rarely works for them, and when he did, he made sure Tony was around for he trusts no one else. He views the secretive organization as dangerous, reckless, and out for themselves. I was able to squeeze in a little about myself, which I discussed my college days and what I studied and why. My conversation was short lived, when he asked if I wanted to take a walk to the Zoo. Of course I said yes, for it meant I get to spend more time with him.

We walk the grounds, side by side, and at times we would bump arms. Each time we inadvertantly touch, my body tightens and I’ll hold my breath. I don’t know about him, but I’m nervous as fuck. I haven’t been on …a date for over ten years. This is a date, right? Hell. I don’t even know what is considered a ‘date’ anymore.  
We walk into the McCormick Bird House and stop upon the wooden bridge to observe the hamerkop. Bruce reads the info board and shares out loud an interesting tidbit.  
“Their nest is made of sticks, and can reach up to eight feet in size. Wow.”  
“Interesting, considering the relative size of the bird. The bald eagle is by far larger, physically, yet its nest only averages six feet. I believe the largest nest ever recorded is nine and a half.”, I say in my geeky cute ways.  
He looks at me with an inquisitive smile, and I keep my eyes ahead to the bird perched on a bare branch. We stand alone, and a flock of unknown small birds flutter around us, making a ruckus over something interesting. I can feel him looking at me. His stare is so heavy, I feel his energy press thru my body. It’s enough for me to want to take flight with the cute little birds and create distance between him and I. I tap into his emotions and feel his mind race with anticipation, questions on his next move or words, feelings of regret if he doesn’t act …all the same emotions I am experiencing, he is doing the same. I take in a deep breath to calm myself and wish I could do the same for him. With fingertips rubbing alongside my dress, I decide to share my eyes with him.  
He is smiling with such warm, sugar brown eyes. If I was perishable, I would be either melting or spoiling in his vision. His age reflects in his peppered dark brown hair, but his skin is youthful and displays only a few wrinkles. I feel as if he is drawing me into his body with an unseen tractor beam, and I totally accept. My eyes begin to shift lightly, side to side, as I realize he is physically moving towards me. Both his hands rise up to gently hold my face, and he stops to lock into my eyes once more, just a foot away from breaking thru my niche. My hands grab the sides of my dress in distress as he makes his forward move. Lips to lips, we stop at our gentle press and hold still. It feels so good to have his pink lips against my own, just resting in place and not doing much else but to touch each other. A warmth erupts from my heart and swirls around inside my chest in a clockwise manner. It brings my eyes to close and slowly open my lips. He follows my lead, and before I know it, we have the tips of our tongues greeting each other. My curious hands rise up to his chest and then to his back, grabbing a hold of his shirt as he presses harder against my lips. A light moan leaves him, and I literally quiver in shock. Geezus …I believe I just had a mini orgasm! I don’t want this to end! I’ve been alone for too damn long, I want none of it any longer! I want this!! I want Bruce!  
I whimper into his mouth, as he presses the tips of his fingers over my ears and then holds firm behind my head. The energy swirling inside my chest begins to pick up speed, and so much so, my head begins to spin as well. The emotions I am experiencing is too much, my synapses are overwhelmed, and I no longer know how to respond properly. My fingers tighten and holds his shirt like my life depends on it, for I feel I am about to loose my balance. He moves his mouth away from me, and I keep my eyes closed for a moment longer to savor every last emotional drop radiating from my heart. My eyes open and I see him smiling even harder, which forces me to smile back.  
“Welcome back.”, he says in a joking manner.  
He is not kidding. I let out a small laugh and he chuckles along. I let him go and return to grab the sides of my dress. He takes notice of my body language, understanding that I am nervous. His heart continues to race forth and feels mutual to our experience. We leave the building to wander the grounds for another hour, before taking me home. We do not share another kiss.

It’s nearly 4:30pm, which takes me by surprise, for it only feels like we spent two hours together. Standing in the lobby, we face each other in silence, assuming either one will speak first. The silence is suffocating me, so I break the ice.  
“Thank you for everything. You know, lunch and the zoo.”  
‘Nice delivery. Real smooth choice of words.’, I say within. Will someone please wrap me into a box and ship me out far, anywhere distant?  
“You’re welcome. I enjoyed our time together. Really.”, he responds softly. “Maybe we could do lunch again? If that’s alright with you.”  
Just the right question I want to hear!  
“I’d like that. Sure!”, smiling bashfully.  
I don’t know if I should make the move and kiss him, as in ‘thanks for a fun filled day’ or wait for him to deliver. The longer I think it over, the more I find myself taking small steps backwards. A sense of ease falls over me, as I remove him from my niche.  
“I’ll call you.”  
“I don’t own a phone.”, I say.  
He shares a half frown half surprised expression, for everyone carries a cell phone. At least everyone he personally knows.  
“Oh. Okay? I’ll just call Tony, then.”  
I nod.  
“I’ll see you.”  
“Okay.”, giving a light wave goodbye.  
The elevator door closes and I let out a huge sigh of relief.

Laura wants to take me shopping tomorrow, and I have yet to return an answer, for I’m still pondering it over. The idea of being out in the public’s eye concerns me greatly. Yet today, I was out in public and not once did I fret being noticed. The concern never crossed my mind, for I was too preoccupied with my time with Bruce.  
“Real smart, Jules. Way to think with your heart and not with your noggin’. How could I be so stupid!”  
These dates …I’m beginning to think this is not such a good idea. What if I wear a wig?  
She brought home three different wigs the other night, and we both had a blast trying them on out of fun. The long blonde is like an anti-me and reeks of ‘fake’. The bouncy shoulder length brunette is hot, for I absolutely love red hair. The third is a straight, dark brown, soccer mom-do and not my style. The color is too close to my own, so that is a no-no. It would be nice to get out in the flesh, to mingle with the public and not hide for a change. I enjoy being in public, yet unnoticed. People watching in the park or riding the subway, unseen, is a hoot! All the crazy conversations, stock market bets, relationships gone bad, or people’s darkest secrets fill the air. Riding the subway at night is even better, for people are more relaxed in the evening and opt to open up and spill their beans. Some play guitar. Some blast their music for all to hear from their phones or iPods. Sometimes, complete strangers will begin to dance, and soon enough, others join in. Before you know it, the car turns into a mini rave on tracks! Tony trusts me, as I roam the city alone in secret. He has no worries of me running away. He’ll ask how my day or night went, and then share his workday with both Laura and I. Tonight it’s Chinese take-out night. I asked Tony to pick me up an extra order of crab rangoon.  
5:30p rolls around and Laura is home with the hot take-out meals. I help her set up the table. Plates, chopsticks, napkins, and drinking glasses are neatly placed in their respectable positions. Tony normally picks up dinner, but he is running late tonight.  
“How was your day?”, she asks, moving about in the kitchen.  
“I had lunch with Bruce.” I decide to just say it and get it over with. She quickly turns around and I see her face light up in excitement.  
“You did? I didn’t know you had a date arranged!”  
“Date? Is that what the cool kids call it, having lunch with another?”, perfecting the lay out of utensils upon the table.  
“What else? Did anything happen?”, she eagerly asks.  
“Like what?”, playing stupid.  
“Did you kiss?”  
I can’t pretend nothing happened. I really want to tell the world, sing forth my happiness, shout out a victorious battle cry! I smile hard at the table, and she let’s out a shrill.  
“Oh my gosh! Jules! That’s wonderful!”  
“We were at the zoo, in the bird house.”, I say thru giggles. “He kissed me. First.”  
“Oooooh! How romantic!”, she squeals forth like high school teenager.  
“And??”  
“And, what?”  
“Is that it?”, she demands.  
“That’s all. We kissed and that’s that.”  
“Oh.”, reducing her excitement.  
“But he asked me out to lunch, again.”, I smile.  
“Oooooh! This is so wonderful! I’m so happy for you!”  
You see? Look at her. This is the VERY reason why I hung out alone, far from the girls and boys of my youth. I really can’t relate to her excitement. At all.

Tony casually waltzes in a little after six o’clock and Laura shares a ‘really?’ look on her face, as he undresses from his armor.  
“I’m so sorry, babe.”, kissing Laura upon her forehead. “Late again. I know. Bad husband.”  
“How was your day?”, she asks.  
“Ah. Interesting? Yes. Very interesting.”, he says with a sigh.  
Laura can read Tony like a book. She knows he is holding back on some big news, yet she lets it go for now.  
“How was your day, Jules? Ride the subway again?”  
“No. I soaked up the rays and made vitamin D.”, I respond and say no more.  
As we eat, Tony rants about the City Hall and some City Government issues with a project of his. Permit problems. Laura returns fire with solutions, for this is her gift. She always has a solution to every problem he has. They really do make a great team and couple. It is so adorable to hear them both yak it out. He makes fires out of nothing, and she puts every fire out with the pinch of her index finger and thumb. Such amazing dynamics.  
“Why don’t you tell him what you ACTUALLY did today, Jules.”, says Laura. If I won’t open my mouth, she sure as hell will.  
“Jules?”, directing his eyes to me.  
I had taken an intentional bite of crab rangoon, chewing away voraciously, so I raise my eyebrows to answer him.  
“What happened today?” He’s not enjoying my obvious avoidance.  
“She had lunch with Bruce.”, says Laura.  
“You did?? Where did you two go for lunch?”  
I toy with a piece of honey glazed chicken upon my green plate.  
“Toro’s.”  
“Yep. He’s terribly predictable. That’s his favorite sushi joint. What else?”  
“That’s it.”, pushing the chicken thru the white rice.  
Laura leans over to Tony, plants him a loud kiss, and takes a bite of her peppered chicken.  
“That was a hint, darling.”, says Laura.  
Christ. Here we go. His eyes light up.  
“You guys kissed? For real? You made out?? Oh my God. Yes!!”, he says with WAY too much gusto. I just look back and smile.  
“We didn’t make out. It was just a kiss.”  
Cool it, Tony.  
“No. You don’t get it. He hasn’t been on first base for at least eight years!”  
“So? It’s been fourteen years for me. Big whoop.”, clearly not enjoying the conversation.  
Where I previously wanted to spread the great news to the world, I now regret the idea. What was I thinking!?  
“Oh.”, Tony responds, quietly. “Fourteen years??”  
I barely eat much of my dinner, having lost my appetite.  
“Please excuse me. I’m going to hit the sack early.”  
Laura frowns, not understanding why I am not happy.  
“Hold on. One more thing.”, he says. “How about a field trip tomorrow.”  
“Awww. Come on. Jules and I have plans to go shopping tomorrow. Right?”, she says, looking at me with a wink.  
“Yeah. We have plans. Shopping. Remember the wigs?”  
Tony looks down at his plate, and I can tell he is trying to think of another way of telling me I had no choice.  
“What’s going on?”, Laura asks.  
Tony continues to look upon his plate and with his chopsticks, he begins to move around a piece of baby corn, bumping it into a sugar snap pea. Back and forth, he repeats this behavior. Finally, he looks up at me.  
“I promised you I’d keep you under the radar, and I intend to keep my promise. I swear it.”, he says.  
I shift in my chair to sit with my right shoulder against the back of the chair and my left leg now crossed over my right knee. I bounce my left foot, for a bit of anxiety is settling in. I don’t like his mood or the way he is looking at me. He reeks of trouble.  
Laura stands up and takes her plate to the sink.  
“I am going to go clean up.”, she says, and leaves us alone. I believe that was code for ‘I am going to leave you two in privacy.’  
The air is heavy, thanks to his emotions. I feel he is troubled. Worried. Cautious. It was enough to rev up my anxiety, and my bouncing left foot is giving this away.  
“I have a good friend who works with, you know, what you call the ‘bad guys’. She really needs our help.”  
“You told her about me?”, I say sharply, my arms now crossed.  
“Um. That’s just it. She already knows about you. She came to me, asking …”.  
I stand up and quickly walk to the glass window and face the patio. I look out to the city and gaze the twinkling lights above each building, fighting to stay calm.  
“She already knew, Jules. I said NOTHING to her about you. She approached me. She knew you were living here.”  
“She works for BlackOps?”, I ask, still looking out to the city.  
“Yes she does.”  
I slap the palm of my right hand against the right side of my forehead, releasing a loud groan of disapproval.  
“She has security badges made for us, to hide our identity. We’ll be entering after hours, for no one works there on the weekends. She’s pretty confident the badges will work.”, says Tony.  
“Oh, please. I don’t need no stinkin’ badge.”, I say sarcastically.  
“No, no, no. You DO need a badge. You see, they have these biosensors, like, everywhere. They are so good, it picked up a monarch butterfly once. No one realized what set off the alarm, until twenty minutes after the security drama began. We can’t risk the chance of getting caught.”  
“Okay? Why the visit.”, I ask.  
“Her name is Rachel. She’s a very, very good and trusted friend, and a friend of hers is in need of YOUR help.”, he says with confidence.  
“Wait. A friend of a friend is involved, here? Are you saying your friend Rachel has another friend whom knows about me? What the fuck, Tony!”, I say with disappointment.  
Flustered, I move out to the patio with my arms crossed tight over my chest to express my message of insecurity.  
“Look. I …”.  
I cut Tony off.  
“I trust you. You know this. I know this. Yet, I just …I just don’t know. Fuck!” I let my arms go loose to my sides and stare down at the floor to express my message of forfeit.  
“What’s our mission.”, I ask him, almost somberly.  
“She will fill us in, once we’re inside. Hey.”, he says, grabbing my attention to look at him. “Turn that frown upside down.”, circling his right index finger around his face.  
“Whatever.”, I mumble, looking away.  
“You still can wear that wig you planned on using tomorrow. Just, no shopping.”  
“Lucky me.”, I answer, nonchalantly.  
I’m kicking imaginary pebbles across the floor with my right foot, thinking to myself, ‘This could be fun, right? A mission. And nothing is mission impossible with Tony and I.’ I smile at my thoughts, feeling a little boost of confidence.  
“I’m game.” I turn to him and smile.  
He let out a sigh of relief, claps his hands once and holds them together.  
“On THAT note, a night cap is in order! Call it a pre celebration to our upcoming adventure! Whiskey?”, he says with a slight dance behind his beloved bar.  
He is right about adventure. One of my weaknesses is adventure. A challenge filled with an adrenaline fix is my drug of choice. Just the thought of being inside the World’s most secretive of secret places, BlackOps-D, is making me goose bump with joy and salivate heavily.  
“Here is a glass for you and a glass for me.”  
I walk up to the bar, pick up my tumbler and swirl the caramelized poison with the square ice cubes within, and we tap glasses in smiles. Tony’s smile is stronger than my own.  
“Cheers!”, he shouts and drinks the whiskey like a shot.  
I sip my poison, for I dislike hard liquor but had to join in for a little celebration, for his sake.  
I take a seat in my favorite red cushy chair and take another sip, enjoying the random colored flashing or solid lights above the city skyline. I glance at Tony and see him staring at the counter top of his bar, clearly in deep thought. Tapping into his emotions, I feel he is fixated on his concerns of failure and devices plans B, C, and D, just in case our visit sours.  
The first night I spent here, Tony expressed his dislike for BlackOps-D. He only worked for them in a time of true need, and it had to be a crisis situation. He would never take a job alone, either. Others were there, all holding special capabilities or powers, both mortal and immortal …or Gods, he would say. Working with a team allowed him to show off his talents and test his new add-ons. Attention is his weakness. Fame, his drug. Adrenaline, his booze. Boy, does he love attention. Such a show-off. My trusted friend. Tony Stark.  
He finishes his drink, sticking to one glass, and leans over the bar table. I watch his right index finger glide across the countertop, slowly creating a drawing, a map, or writing. His behavior is quite unsettling, although I admire his determination. Tony is not so much worried about himself but more so for me. What if the agency discovers them onsite? What does Rachel have up her sleeve? What if Jules is taken in? Personally, I am getting excited about tomorrow’s mission.  
“I’m going to bed.”, leaving the glass on the counter.  
“Goodnight. Sleep tight.”, he says in a goofy smile.  
“I’ll leave the bed bugs for you to bite.”, waving away towards my room.  
He snickers. It’s our thing. He swirls the wet cubes around twice, curious to why his best friend had not called him to announce his lips had been broken free from the drought. Then, he thinks of my fourteen years of singularity.  
“Damn.”

"Rise and shine!", he yells from the other side of my door.  
I’m nocturnal, by nature. I hate early mornings. Seven am is a bitch and much to early. Let the robin take the early worm, for all I care.  
I glare at my clothing selection within my closet, scanning the slacks, shirts, skirts, jeans, and dresses. Laura provided me with a shit load of clothing, and most I have yet to even enjoy. She is much more petite than I am, so she took me out shopping on my second day and spent his hard earned cash. She had too much fun shopping, and the results within my closet proves it. I spot a sleeveless retro green, gold, and orange dress.  
Nah. Too happy.  
I pull out a flowing creamy white top and capri jeans. Oh yeah. I really love this top. It has a Greek Goddess feel to it. For someone who’s a fan of Greek Mythology, this suits me well. The capri pants I choose for comfort. I slip on a black sock to my left foot and a red one to my right. Color magic. Red for swiftness and power, black for reversal of dark energy and protection.  
I adjust the chain on my pendant and move the clasp behind my neck, making a wish out loud.  
“I wish …I wish us safety. I wish to return home. Both of us.”  
I braid my hair and twist it into a tight bun on the bottom of my head. Just like Laura taught me, I attach the hairnet and tuck in all of my loose dark brown strands, place the brunette wig over my forehead, and slide it down into place. With a couple of hairpins tucked discretely to hold my character in place and a light brush to readjust the lay of my wig, I am ready. I look …pretty damn good, actually. Had I applied some makeup, I could be racking in dates.  
I secure my feet into the Wonder Woman Converse shoes, a childhood hero and still is. The moonstone ring slides upon my wedding finger and I fidget with it. I turn it clockwise, then pull it off, then back on, and spin it around again several times. I’m nervous as hell. Tony knocks on my door, breaking me from my worries.  
“I’ll be right out!”, I yell.  
Standing in front of the simple gold oval mirror, which sits just right of the bedroom door, I stare at my pendant and examine the blue stone I had always believed to be a piece of junk plastic. I rub it between my right index finger and thumb, look into my brown eyes and frown. I see a frightened woman, for I sense something will go wrong today. Yet, I can’t back out. I must go along with the mission. Ever so slowly, I close my eyes and say a little prayer.  
“Please bless us with the protection we deserve to succeed. Please see that we safely execute our mission. Please …”. I pause a moment. “I wish Tony Stark love and light, for I believe he will need it more than I.”  
Tony is standing outside of my bedroom door and heard every word I said.

Laura gives him a soft peck upon the lips, as he is adjusting his collar in the mirror near the elevator lobby. She bends her forehead to his right ear and says something softly. Whatever she said, he approves for it brings a big smile to his face. We leave in his silver sporty two door, grossly overpaid racing machine, and zoom off into the sunrise.  
Literally.  
The ride takes us East, most of the way, making for a surreal scene. We didn’t say a word for the first five minutes, for I believe we were both caught up in the moment. I look out my window and watch the Saturday light rush hour traffic pass us by. Tony is driving his car like it is designed for. I watch a guy flip us the bird, as Tony weaves in and out with grace. I chuckle under my breath.  
“A day, like today, requires the RIGHT mood, and I got just what the Doctor ordered!”, he says with delight.  
Apparently, Motley Crue is taking us to work today.  
“Ooooh! Yeeeah! Kick start my heart, give it a start! Ooooh! Yeeeah! Baaaby!”  
Christ. I tune him and Motley out of my head, looking out my window with more focus into the outlying distance. I watch lives pass me by. Literally.  
For some reason, I imagined the agency to only be blocks away. Such as in the basement of a major bank, department store, to blend in with life above. Sometimes when you hide among others, it’s not so obvious. Instead, this place is a good forty five minutes away and along the shoreline and hidden beyond a mile worth of sand dunes. In the state of Michigan! They had me fooled.  
We drive past three security checkpoints. Regardless of Tony’s reputation, he still had to show his ID. We drive toward a plain concrete gray building, similar to the ones I have seen in Washington D.C., with long vertical, skinny windows. A very bland taste in architecture. Just before we park, I take notice of my own ID.  
“Rachel had high expectations of me showing up, with this elaborate ID pre-made. Jodie Summergarden? Really, Tony?”  
That is my name on the ID.  
“What? You think that was MY idea? Puh-lease. I would have gone with Wonda Wooman.”  
I snicker and shove my open left palm to his right shoulder, for he was clearly referring to my shoes.  
“Smart ass.”

Our arrival time is 8:27 EST. There are two other vehicles parked out front, along with his half a million dollar transport. Rachel’s car could be either one of them. I am guessing it’s the red Ford Mustang. The other is a Ford F-250 diesel.  
We enter thru two heavyset glass doors and come upon an enormous lobby. I look down and on the glossy waxed black floor has the proud emblem of BlackOps-D. I remind myself to remain calm, breathe, and look at ease. Two security guards sit at the circular desk ahead, watching a movie on a portable DVD player to kill the slow Saturday AM hour. As we walk past them, we exchange our morning greetings with smiles all around. The elevator lobby, dead ahead, is like a vision of hope. Once we ride, we are in.  
There is only one button outside of four elevator doors. He pushes it, and the cables quickly whisk upwards. It sounded like forever, making me wonder just how deep this place goes. With doors now open, he motions with his hands _‘ladies first’_. I am astonished there are only two buttons to choose from: Emergency call button and the open door button. A card reader sits a foot above them, and he swipes his ID and motions I do the same. The doors close, followed with a quick drop underground. The ride lasted five seconds, but we traveled at a quick pace. For all I know, we could be a mile deep. We walk out to a well lit bunker like tunnel. Full gray concrete walls and cable wiring above with multiple color coded pipes, this place reeks of a shelter. The air is dry and I feel heavier.  
“Oh, man. I’m having flashbacks, in a bad way.”, Tony says.  
His apprehension concerns me, and I can now feel my heart beating inside of my throat. Before I can even ask what he meant by ‘flashback’, a woman turns out of a room from our left, just thirty feet ahead. She begins to smile intensely and picks up her momentum. She is clearly beyond happy.  
“Oh my gosh! Thank you both for coming! You must be Jules! I am soooo honored to meet you. Please, hurry!”  
She quickly turns and jogs back to the same door she exited from. Tony and I look at each other with eyebrows up and giving the _‘here goes nothing’_ look. I was ready to nail her with questions to why she wanted me here, but her kind demeanor offset my demands. I now feel more uneasy than ever.

The room to the left was actually another long hallway, only wider. As we walked together in a hurried pace, she begins to answer a few of my unasked questions but directed to Tony.  
“Thor returned last night, and he specifically asked for Jules. Of course, I had no idea whom he was referring to, until he said his brother ran into a woman whom healed him. And I remembered that day, you were fighting with him downtown and the building we found him in? That is why I called you, to confirm if it was the same woman. Thank goodness, I was right!”  
We approach a heavyset set of black doors and Jane looks at me.  
“The only reason why I knew it had to be you is because Tony was destined to find out whom Loki was with that day.”  
I lowered my eyebrows at her and then looked at Tony.  
“What??”, he says in a smile.  
He had the look of a child caught with his hands full with cookies from the jar, red handed. So he DID tell someone about me. Liar. Had Rachel not been so Goddamned friendly, I would have gone postal on his ass.  
Rachel punches in several numbers upon the keypad of the black doors and a loud hiss gives way as they open. We walk into a small 10x20 foot room with another set of doors ahead. These were even larger but metallic gray. She punches a series of numerics onto a key pad, at least twelve digits, and the doors give a hiss and opens slowly. They both walk forward. I hold my position.  
The room takes my breath away. It is fucking enormous!  
 _'What in the hell is this place?'_  
The floor has a slight decline and towards the white back wall, just ahead, is a half circular-like pipe that’s two feet wide with a possible circumference of fifteen feet. It almost looks to be smiling at me. I get the heebie geebies, feeling my forearm hairs stand on end. A metal grate of a ramp leads to the end. Tony and Rachel are both a good twenty feet ahead, chatting away. Too busy checking out the environment, I hear none of their conversation. He stops and turns around, taking notice that I have yet to enter the room, and walks back to me.  
“Hey! Earth calling Jules!”  
I break from my zone and realize I have yet to walk inside. I proceed forward and he places his right hand upon my left shoulder and rubs it a bit to express reassurance.  
Rachel is waving for us to come forth, when a terrible sound erupts ahead from the half circle metal pipe. A loud ‘whomp’ and a shockwave ensues, blowing my hairs back. Rachel turns and runs to a tall and heavily built Caucasian blonde at the end of the ramp. A turbulent creamy gray smoke churns behind him in a two dimensional format, flat like compact makeup. So odd yet beautiful, I am captivated by the storm lying flat behind this man.  
“Thor!”, she cries forth, grabbing his left arm as he proceeds up the ramp in a noticeable limp.  
I turn and look at Tony with my right index finger in his face and open mouth.  
“Okay. Hold it right there.”, I say in shock. I look back at the two, notice the man’s barbarian-like or Nordic attire. He’s big, no doubt a giant by Human standards, and the two embrace.  
“Holy. Shit. You were not joking, were you?”, I say to Tony, still watching the two.  
I was referring to the night he spoke of Gods he met and had worked with, while doing jobs for BlackOps-D. My knees feel like jello and just about to give way. I had always believed, since childhood, and sometimes even worshiped these Mythological Gods into my early twenties. To actually see one with my own eyes is hard to comprehend. My mind is telling me ‘I told you so’, but it also fights with ‘No fucking way’.  
The way this God walks towards us, assisted by a petite mortal, concerns me. I thought Gods were immortal and therefore incapable of injury or pain. Do my eyes deceive me? Was I given false information? Was I taught to believe Gods were incapable of defeat and death to instill fear into me? Rachel points out to me, and once again, shares her intense smile.  
“Thor? This is Jules.”  
“The pleasure is mine.”, he says with a nod.  
Thor then fills my head with a story only a child would read from a fictional book. His people, his kingdom, all suffer from a curse. The curse attacks the nervous system, making you immobile. Without being able to move, you cannot care for yourself or eat. Some of his people have already perished and most are on the verge of death. Even his family, all Gods, suffer. My eyes widen to his words and my brain feels hot. The information has overloaded my circuits, for it continues to argue what I am hearing is fact or fiction.  
“My brother mentioned your name. He believes you can help us. My people. Is this true?”, he says in heavy breaths, slightly leaning forward.  
“Um.”, I say, then look at Tony. He shrugs his shoulders. I look at Rachel and then back to Thor.  
“I’ve never healed a God, before.”  
“You saved my brother’s life.”, Thor says.  
“Brother?”, I say inquisitively. I narrow my brows and tilt my head to him, confused by his statement.  
Thor looks at Rachel, also questioning whether they have the right person.  
“Is she not aware whom she healed?”, asks Thor.  
Tony took his right elbow and jutted me into my left arm to get my attention, for I stood staring at the ground. I was thinking back to the event of my beautiful stranger entering my life.  
“He’s talking about the man who landed on your greenhouse.”, says Tony.  
I quickly look up to Thor in surprise.  
“He was a …God?”  
“Is.”, says Tony.  
At that point, the beautiful swirls of gray within the circle collapses and creates a ‘whomp’ noise, bringing us to look at the empty half circle and white wall in the background. Thor turns and hurriedly hobbles down the ramp, yelling forth a name.  
“Heimdall!  Heimdall!”  
“Oh no!”, says Rachel.  
“Oh no, what.”, Tony demands.  
Thor gingerly hobbles back to us in greater pain and speaks loudly.  
“Heimdall was very ill, when I left Asgard. He is a strong man, but I am afraid the curse has reached his limit.”  
“Heimdall is the Guardian of Asgard.”, Rachel explains.  
“So. Now what?”, asks Tony.  
Thor drops his hands upon his knees, breathing heavily and clearly overwhelmed in the curse. Rachel places her right hand upon his left shoulder, moves her head down to his left ear, and begins to speak softly to him. I can hear her whisper "Are you alright?".  
Both my arms lay flat alongside my body, my hands in tight fists. I take a deep breath in and let it out slowly to calm myself, for my nerves are wound pretty fucking tight. I walk to the miserable, suffering God. A beautiful Caucasian creature of shoulder length blonde hair, clearly built to perfection as a killing machine, yet dying to a spell. I slowly stretch my right hand to the top of his head, but stop short of opening my hand. I feared God. A natural response, considering I was raised to fear Him. All kids are taught to fear God, right?  
“It’s okay.”, she says.  
If a mortal, like Rachel, can touch him let alone embrace this man, then it’s a no brainer. What is there to fear? I slowly open my hand, spread my fingers open, and reach for his head until I am two inches away. I do not sense I am sending any healing to him. I blame my troubled mind, for my focus is all over the place. I’m just too fucking nervous!  
I close my eyes and envision both Thor and I upon NORPAC Hill. I move my left hand to his head and with both hands now positioned sightly apart and open, I close my eyes and direct my energy to his body. A warmth begins to fill within my chest, and like water, it runs down the skin of my arms, to my hands, and flows over his head. Heat emanates from the palm of my hands, coats over his head and travels with the energy down upon his body. His labored breathing ceases, and five seconds later, he rises to his feet. The pain upon his face was no more and replaced with a greatful smile. The vision of us standing upon my meditation field fades back to the large open room, and I watch Rachel and Thor hug each other. He then looks at me.  
“Thank you.”

Someone is slowly clapping. The sound echoes withing the room, delivered by several hidden speakers. I look around for the person expressing their opinion and follow the eyes of Rachel. Behind me and up two stories is a large glass window. An observation or control room sits with lights on, and a well built white man claps slowly. He does not appear pleased, and I take his slow clap as not a sign of congratulations, just by his sarcastic expression of disapproval. The man goes by the name of Moose. Head Director of Operations. This is his room, his stuff, and he is clearly pissed off.  
“Ssssshhhiiit”, Tony says under his breath.  
“I’m sorry. I was NOT aware there would be a party, held within my shit. Someone forgot to send me an invitation.”, he growls.  
Rachel looks at Thor with deep concern. Tony’s ingenious fighting words takes over the conversation with Moose to help us three gain precious time to reopen the portal. His smart antics fires up Moose, going at it with such ferocity, my natural response is to run and hide. I stand behind Tony, out of Moose’s view, and begin to wonder if this is what I felt earlier this morning, as I looked in the mirror. This impending doom. I have the urge to yell at the God next to me to do his God-like magic and create a happy ending.  
“Jules! You can open the gate!”, Thor shouts.  
“What? Me?”, confused at his request.  
“The source lies within the stone you carry.”  
Rachel stands next a heavily wired round table sitting above a 2x2 long black box, and waves for me to approach. There is a six inch metal plate in the center, almost like a mirror, and a glass dome rests above it.  
“Place your pendant in here, on the plate!”, she instructs.  
I quickly unclasp the necklace and place the stone onto the metallic plate. She closes the lid. Nothing happens.  
I am supposed to keep this stone on me at all times. Maybe I am the connection, here. Maybe that is why it does not work.

Meanwhile, Tony keeps Moose distracted with a battle of words. Soon enough, Moose takes notice of our actions at the table. He knew something was up, when the gateway opened without his notification and Thor comes waltzing thru. The energy of the gateway was picked up by sensors within the building and the information was relayed via his fancy smartphone. He personally installed the sensors, just in case an event such as this would occur, which the the portal is opened without his knowledge or consent. He trusts NO ONE.  
“Do you remember how you got the pendant to work?”, Rachel asks.  
“Ah. Um…..”, I mumble.  
In between his battling dialogue with Moose, Tony thows out ‘the apartment’ towards me, and I begin to recall the glow …the glow!  
“I remember! Yes! I was crying. I think it was the tears!”, I shout excitedly.  
“Start crying!”, Thor demands.  
“Thor!”, says Rachel.  
“No. Wait a second. I’ve cried many times before, and it never glowed then. Something else …”.  I flash back to the day my beautiful stranger entered my life. He was wiping away his blood upon my hand and walked away …I began to cry and threw my right hand onto my face …I moved my hand down over my face, down my neck, and held my pendant. It was that very moment it began to glow. I begin to imitate my actions in front of Thor and Rachel. I traced my right hand from my face, down over my neck, and to where my pendant would lay.  
“Blood. His blood was all over my face and neck. It was his blood!!”, I shout.  
Thor gives a painful squint.  
“Pardon?”  
“His blood was all over me. He was coughing up blood, when I was healing him. I had blood all over my hands!”  
“I’ll be right back!”, says Rachel. She casually walks to the door and then bolts out to the hallway.  
“There is NO WAY in HELL you are opening that portal!”, shouts Moose.  
Apparently, Tony filled Moose in and he is really pissed off, now.  
“I need to take Jules back to my kingdom. She can help us!”  
“I’m not going to allow you to risk spreading your disease on our World! That portal is to remain shut, and I want YOUR ass in quarantine! That goes for the rest of you.”, Moose demands.  
“It’s a curse, not a disease!”, shouts Thor.  
“I don’t give a rats ass WHAT it is. The portal is to remain shut, and that’s the end of it! Understood???”  
Tony and Thor look at each other, almost as if they both were asking each other for a solution. I stand like a statuary, freaked out and ready to piss my pants, and looking intently at Tony’s face for clues to our survival. I await for his plans B, C, or D. Based on his expression, it is evident his plans are all duds. Just then, the door opens and Rachel runs out to us. She holds a small glass vial with a black lid on it, and inside was red fluid. She hands it to me.  
“When we ran a diagnosis of your apartment, the day we found Loki, we took samples of the blood found in the greenhouse. We didn’t know if he had killed someone, so we took it for DNA analysis. Jules. It looked like a crime scene, for there was so much blood! Anyway, when the results came in, it came up as an ‘unknown’ specimen and not Human. That’s when we realized it had to have been Loki’s. Yet, we never imagined it would be his. He didn’t look injured at all!”  
I open the lid and place the right index finger to the opening, tip the vial, and allow enough of his blood to cover my fingerprint.  
“Seriously, Thor. That’s why we held your brother for so long. We really believed he killed someone.”, she says.  
I pick up the pendant, smear the blood upon the stone, and waited for it to respond. The close the black lid and the vial remains in my left hand.  
“Come on!”, I shout at it.  
“CRY!”, Thor yells at me.  
“I can’t just cry on command!”, I shout back, upset.  
“I wish I never took you in.”, Tony says with intent, grabbing my left upper arm hard and shouts into my face.  
“What??”, I say.  
“I’ve been lying to you. I hate you. Laura hates you. Every night I have to listen to her bitch at me with ‘When is ever going to leave?’”, he snarls, eyes narrowed.  
“Stop it!”, I beg.  
“I wish I never took you in.”, he barks.  
“Please stop!” My eyes water, for my heart begins to break.  
“I should have left you in the ocean to die that day!”, he yells into my face, feeling his breath strike me. He leans into me with eyes full of pure hatred. His words are so hurtful, I break down crying in hysterics. I believe every word he said and my heart lay heavy. I am so distraught, I don’t even hear the three shouting at me to mix my tears with the blood. The outer door opens and five heavily armed men enter the room, taking positions along the back wall just below the observatory. The doors close once more.  
“I want the girl and that necklace to back up to the wall. Now!!”, Moose demands.  
I heard the man, loud and clear. Fear envelops me, for I have no where to run to and no where to hide. Or fly. I could use my magic, but like Tony said before. There’s enough bioshit wired withing this building, they will seek me out. This is it, I think to myself. This is what I have feared most of my life. This is what my nightmares spoke of. Armed men chasing me down to harness my powers. The bad guys got me!  
“Blood and tears, Jules! Blood and tears!!”, Tony shouts close and directed into my ears. I finally come to, hear his words, and act. With the pendant in my right hand, I wipe my tears from my face with my left, vial still in hand, and swipe the stone. It glows forth a bluish white light.  
“Open that portal, and I will have my men fire!”, Moose yells.  
“The gate! Quick!”, Thor shouts.  
“Don’t worry about us, Jules. Just open the damn gate!”, says a confident Tony.  
I quickly move to the black table, place my glowing stone upon the metallic plate, and without even having to close the lid the portal creates a ‘whomp’ noise and the gray moving clouds appear ahead into the smiley face. I grab my pendant and hold it tight within my right white knuckled fist. At that very moment, the heart wrenching sounds of gunfire erupts from all five heavily armed men.

I was right.

My intuition this morning, about our mission and the feel of doom upon us, something to go wrong …I knew it! Yet, I didn’t expect it to be THIS bad. I did not envision us to die, for Christ’s sake! Once again, I recall the day my beautiful stranger fell thru my barrier, destroying my greenhouse, and brought my life to a stand still.  
Loki.  
The name burns my tongue. I hate his name. I hate his existence! I hate him!!  
The same rage I felt for Loki on that fateful day, I feel once more. The blistering madness brings me to focus with amazing accuracy and speed. I quickly swing my left arm out and point my fist to the armed men. I open my hand, focus my barrier of protection toward the five, and what no one could see was a beautiful glow of blue light move swiftly toward them. Thor does see this, for he is a God, and remains standing in a defensive posture. He just about pulled out his mjolnir, but I beat him to it. The blue light dissolves the bullets, presses against the men, and crushes them. The five armed men quickly dissolve, along with all their gear. Gone. Disappeared. All that remain is their body impressions into the concrete wall. The glass vial escapes my open hand and flies a considerable distance. It hits the floor, shatters to bits, and Loki’s blood reaches out to no one.  
With the danger gone, Thor grabs my left arm, which is still up in the air and stiff as a board from my own shock, and pulls me forth.  
“We must go! Now!!”, he shouts.  
I snap out of my shock, follow his lead and run down the ramp along his right. He adjusts his grip to hold my left wrist and we run into the moving gray storm.


	6. Dirty Little Curse

Life didn't even give me a precious moment to turn around and look the other way. Desperately, I wanted to look back at my friends and verify they were not gunned down mercilessly. I don't even know if the men whom were firing at us were still firing shots at all. It's as if time hiccupped or my Soul's DVD skipped a scene. Life flashed in a blister before my eyes. It was so Goddamned fast! I know for a fact I opened my protective barrier, but what I wasn't aware of was the extent of harm I placed upon the five men.  
The moment I entered the portal, the chapter of my new found happy life as Tony's sidekick and best friend ended. I never had a chance to say goodbye. I never had a chance to thank him. Hell, I didn't even have a fleeting moment to anticipate my entry into the portal and prepare myself physically or mentally.  
Thor's mjolnir entered first, then himself, and his solid right hand on my left wrist pulled me in. Not taking any chances of failure on his part, his fingers bound my flesh tight. His grasp was much too strong, for God made me gasp in pain.  
As we break the surface of the gray swirling clouds, my eyes grow wide and my adrenaline floods my conscious thoughts. The surreal vision of stars pass us by, creating long white and colored streaks all around us. Predominately in red, pink, purple, orange, yellow, and blue, it reminds me of a time lapse video made at night to watch the Milky Way in motion. Thor's mjolnir remains ahead in his left hand, giving an impression the hammer is moving us. Wide eyed, I watch with intent and a nudge of fear. Not knowing what to expect at the end of this tunnel, I fight my overloaded mental synapses to prepare for my arrival with generous reminders to 'land on both feet'. Moving head first past the stars isn't helping to reassure I will be successful at that. No sooner do I worry, I see a planet come to view.  
 _'No. Wait. An …island?'_  
 _'No. No. Looks like a bunch of floating rocks.'_  
"Hollllly shit.", I whisper out loud.  
A far-ranging rock comes to view, similar in the shape of an iceberg but outstretched and thin, and a city dead center shines in silver stone and dark goldenrod. Simultaneously, our bodies automatically flip so that our feet now point down. A strange alien world ahead and my body flipping …my brain simply cannot process the foreign information fast enough. Not knowing when we will touch the ground, I wait too long to flex my leg muscles. Completely unprepared for arrival, both feet touch the pad and my legs give out, falling forward. Thor still has a strong grip on my left wrist and pulls me back, steadying my body. I give a couple of stumbles and I stop in shock. Standing in a room completely made of either copper, brass, or gold, the hairs upon my skin shimmies to the electromagnetic field. God finally frees me and makes his way around the golden circular platform, which sits dead center of the spectacular room. My center of gravity remains off kilter and feet shifts side to side. Staring dead ahead upon a pedestal is a brightly lit blue oval chamber, pulsing erratically, and surrounded in ornate metal. It is so beautiful, I can't take my eyes off it.  
"Jules!", Thor yells.  
Steady and slow, I walk around the three-foot platform to my right and see Thor kneeling upon his left knee and his left hand resting upon someone's shoulder. A very large white skinned creature lay on the brass-like floor with an enormous, long broad sword laying between the body and the golden circle.  
"Quickly!", he shouts.  
Thor stands to move aside so I may take his spot upon the floor. I kneel on both knees and lightly lean over the creature's left shoulder, whom is also lying on its belly. I bite the chain to my pendant in between my teeth and open my right hand over the back and my open hand over the pale skinned shoulder and loose blonde locks. I have no trouble focusing, this time around. Unlike the issue I had with Thor, I quickly send out my warm healing energy throughout the creature's body. Five seconds later, it moves to push itself up, and I quickly scoot back with my hands and feet to watch the giant rise. Its right hand holds the sword and its golden brown eyes turn to Thor to greet him. They both approach each other and rest their right hand on to the left shoulder, exchanging heavy pats. Thor looks absolutely relieved.  
"Blessed Yggdrasil! How do you feel?", he asks.  
 _'Holy shit! This is no creature! This is a man ...giant-thing!'_   
He appears to be made of alabaster, for his skin is smooth, white, and heavily built like stone. Jesus …he must stand at least nine feet tall! Heimdall's watchful eyes now look down to lock into mine. His overwhelming energy of confidence and power intimidates me. I feel terribly small, feeble, and like an agitated ant, I have the need to scramble. With the pendant chain still secured between my teeth, I send a goofy ass smile with too much teeth.  
"Thank you.", he says in a low and sexy voice …hot damn! He looks back at Thor. "The King is weak, much like his kingdom. You MUST make haste!"  
"Come, Jules!", shouts Thor.  
I scramble to my feet and follow them both out the building. In the process, I secure the necklace back around my neck. Heimdall stops a few feet outside the entrance of Himinbjorg, or what the locals call Himin. It is Heimdall's pride and joy, his residence, and it literally sits at the edge of The Void. His hands rests on top of the handle of the sword with the point of the blade upon the beautiful radiant surface. Ahead, a large beige horse snorts loudly at the sight of his owner. I've worked with Clydesdales before, but this horse is even taller and bigger. It's fucking enormous!  
 _'Is everything gigantic, here?'  
_ Thor saddles up and puts his right hand down to grab me, for the foot strap is much too high for me to even use.  
"Is everything here on a large scale? I can't even reach my foot into this!"  
"Give me your hand.", he says, grinning.  
Instead, I float up and he moves back for me to sit in front. As I grip the handle tight, I look at Heimdall for another look at the breathtaking beast. He smiles and I blush. Just then, Thor turns his horse hard to the left and it moves like a bat out of hell. I white knuckle the wooden handle and press the insides of my thighs into the horse to steady myself. I've only been on a horse once, back in college, and that was a boring twenty minute uneventful stroll thru the woods. As we tear away, I can still feel Heimdall's energy of sheer strength and determination pierce right thru my person. I've never met anyone like him before. I suppose if you are the sole guardian of your kingdom's comings and goings, you need a formidable mental state, a heart-gripping low voice, and a chiseled body.  
"Woo hoo!", I shout with excitement, as we fly across the bridge.

Thor moves his horse hard like Tony drives his car. The resemblance is striking and almost comical. The wind presses my face, drying my eyes, and happy tears tangle into my phony brunette hairs. The speed which we travel is superior to any horse on Earth. It's more than a gallop …Christ, what is faster than a gallop? Our speed feels so unrealistic, my mind replaces my experience to that of an amusement ride. I'm like a kid, giddy on a rollercoaster, and I don't want this ride to end! Thor smiles at my silly reaction and feels great pride within, for he has brought the aid his Kingdom needs.  
"We call this the Bifrost Bridge!", he declares.  
"It reminds me of a rainbow!", I shout.  
"That's because it is!"  
 _'What?'  
_ No way. You can't fool me, Thor. Rainbows are not physical. They are merely an optical illusion, created by a reflection of light in water droplets. It's not raining and this is a solid bridge. Please. That would make the city of Asgard the pot of gold at the end of the bridge, right? Give me a break.

As we approach the terminal point of the Bifrost, I swallow hard. More so, I swallow my previous thoughts down, for the largest of buildings in the distance appear to be make of gold! I mean, the way the surface of the buildings glisten in the light of the two suns? This makes me think about the Sumerians. The Sumerian Tablets tell a story which they created man as slaves to mine for gold. The gold was critical for their atmospheric life support. Without it, the Sumerians would perish due to the collapse of their ecosystem from the solar radiation. I wonder if Asgard is no different? What if there is a correlation to the Sumerians and of the Asgardians?  
"Can you heal as we proceed into Ida?", he asks out loud.  
"Hold me tight, and I will give it my best!"  
He takes his left hand and presses my belly firmly, pushing my back into his body to steady me. It is a brace I can count on. I hold both my arms out straight, horizontal to the ground, and open both hands with my fingers wide apart. With my head slightly lowered, I narrow my eyes upon the horse's mane and slow my breathing to relax. A fever grows inside my chest, travels down my arms, and the healing energy in the form of heat leaves the palm of my hands.  
 _'Hela …Hela ….'_   
The name creeps thru my sweaty scalp.  
 _'What? Who is Hela?'  
_ Thor slows his horse to a trot, ensuring my energy reaches everyone within the village. People are displayed in various positions upon the cobbled street, outside of their homes and shops. Others remain inside their homes, unseen. Lying down, slumped over, or painfully moving about, the visions frighten me. Some reach out, moaning in agony to Thor, as we approach. I am flabbergasted. Such pain!  
"The curse immobilizes the nervous system with painful results. The nerve endings continue to react and literally makes one feel like you are being burned alive.", he explains.  
He further states that even after you become immobile, you do not immediately die. The curse is designed for complete suffering, and I can only imagine for an immortal, the suffering must be a very long, horrible, and deliberate death!   
_'This is horrendous! Who is responsible for this torment?!'_  
Thor continues to make a beeline for the large golden structure known as Gladsheim. His horse never looses momentum, even as we travel up steep hills. As we reach the end of our drive, he yells loudly to the barely alert guard of three.  
"What is the status of my father!"  
I relax my arms and take in a big breather.  
 _'Hela….'_

Beads of sweat sit still upon my forehead and I brush it off with my right hand as if I'm brushing away the name which haunts me. My lungs feel like they're overheated. It is similar to how I would feel after walking up more than ten flights of stairs, non-stop. I can only imagine this to be a sign that I am terribly out of shape. But then again, I have never healed in such a magnitude. Possibly, the healing is much like a workout? Either way, I'm winded. Thor dismounts and with his right hand he motions for me to get down, quickly.  
"Hold on …I need a breather!", I pant out loudly.  
"No time!", he yells forth.  
I roll my eyes, swing my left leg over the back of his horse, and move my right foot to search out for the stirrup. I completely forgotten the size of the horse and the distance of the stirrup is too far for me to reach. I immediately drop and let out a surprised yell. Had Thor not captured me by the waist, I would no doubt be flat on my back with a sprained or broken right foot.  
"Thanks.", I say out of embarrassment.  
I keep my pace with the blonde God, just slightly behind to his left. Much like our ride thru the village and city, I heal in the same manner as we move hastily thru the great halls and grand rooms. Men and women lay scattered in various poses upon the glossy charcoal stone floor. The curse feels heavy within the building, bringing me to wonder if it originated here. What is this structure, anyway?  
"What is this building that we're in?"  
"Valhalla!", he huffs.  
Okay? That means nothing to me. I want to ask for a clearer answer to our location, but the large embellished iron doors capture my immediate attention. Two guards sit slumped over upon the floor on either side, and I send my healing forth. Thor pushes the doors hard to gain entry, and he rushes to his father's bedside. To the right he stands, gently leaning over to speak to the frail man in bed.  
I stop at the opening of the door and remain in place. The most spectacular sight of the day lay ahead of me, hovering over the massive, ocher bed.  
"What …what is that?", I whisper to myself.  
I slowly walk forward, cautiously yet terribly curious to know what surrounds the bed. It looks like a force field of some sort. Possibly like my shield of protection …I must know!  
Thor continues to speak to his father. I can't make out what he is saying, but I can see the old man in bed is alert, nodding to what Thor has to share. Thor then looks at me and with his left hand, he waves for me to come forth. I move quickly and stop at the end of the bed. The strange energy field surrounding the bed appears to be alive. Actual flakes of gold energetically dance in various patterns. My mouth falls open in awe.  
"Please do your healing!", Thor pleads.  
I gently lower my open palms above the field. The energy is no doubt alive, for I can feel it alter my own energy. As I exert my healing, my eyes grow wide and I smile openly. The flakes of gold dance faster, harder, and to a larger pattern. The field widens to a foot, and the flakes now bounce around in a tizzy. A few seconds later, the man rises up and exits his bed. I lower my hands and watch the golden flakes return to their normal state of excitement. A guard quickly moves forward, handing the man a long golden scepter, and then he walks toward me. Nervous, I adjust my posture and flatten my hands upon the outside of my thighs.  
"My son acquainted me with your gift. I am indebted to you, as well as the people of Asgard. Alone, you have freed us from certain death."  
"Um. You're welcome."  
I am nervous as fuck. A large scepter …large bed …large ornate door …many guards …Heimdall mentioned the King was weak. Is this the King he was referring to? And Thor his son? I swear, my brain is about to explode into a display of fireworks. This is incredible!

Thor quickly leads me out of his father's room and we head to his mother's. Her room is much further than I would expect it to be and housed in a separate building known to the locals as Vingolf. The bed itself is similar, having the same dancing golden flakes above. Several females lie upon the glossy chestnut floor, clustered together and all struggling to breathe. It appears they were holding each other, supporting their bodies as a whole so not to die alone. Lucky for them, I am here in the nick of time.  
Thor leans to the right, over the woman lying in the bed, and brushes her hair back until the pillow stops his hand. He is speaking to her closely, yet I cannot hear him clearly. His voice sounds distorted. Muffled. It occurs to me the energy field surrounding the bed is blocking the sound waves. I send out healing to the ladies clumped together upon the floor and then wait for Thor's direction. Without moving his body, he turns his head to me and nods. I heal his mother in the same manner I healed his father, and five seconds later, she rises to sit up. Butterflies sputter in my belly as he and his mother share a strong embrace. She then casts her eyes on me, smiling, and I smile in return. Again, Thor quickly moves for the door and motions for me to follow. I watch the handful of ladies move toward the bed to check on the wellbeing of their Queen. His mother and I never had a chance to exchange words but only a smile.

Swiftly, our feet carry us forth thru elongated hallways. Rapidly, I heal slumped and moaning guards pressed against the wall. Our next stop brings me to an enormous lounge with a roaring fire pit dead center. Several long couches sit around the blaze in perfect harmony. The whole room reeked of Feng Shui. It's warm, cozy, and full of happy. Two men are slumped over on separate couches and Thor makes his way to them.  
"Hogun! Hogun, can you hear me?"  
I didn't wait for Thor's nod, this time. I have come to recognize his emotional energy and his tone of voice to know when I need to begin the healing. I reposition myself and stand in between both men of equal distance. With both arms straight off my side and hands open, I send healing forth. Hogun is on my left and Fandral is on my right.  
"Fandral! Awake, my friend!"  
It only took seconds. Immediately, all three are joyous and exchanging hand and arms shakes. Both men begin to fidget and recollect their thoughts verbally, expressing their terrors of excruciating pain and fear of dying. Fandral then looks to me and with my right hand into his left, he raises it to his lips.  
"I am not worthy of such allure. Forever beholden.", kissing the top of my hand. He cocks his right eyebrow up to check on my response.  
Oh yeah. This guy is a total player. I flash him a smirk out of the corner of my right mouth, which he quickly returns fire by tilting his head slightly to his left and squints his eyes. I think he was saying, "Aw, come on!" thru his goofy ass look.  
"Where is Volstagg and Sif?", asks Thor.  
"Volstagg is with his own.", Fandral replies, still checking me out.  
"The last we saw Sif was in the Hall of the Slain.", says Hogun.  
"Valhalla!", shouts Thor.  
Quickly we run toward the great hall to the last known sighting of Sif. As we enter the grand hall, the men spread out into various directions and I stop to soak in the amazing beauty surrounding me. Enormous statues of golden soldiers rise tall.  
"It's all in gold …unbelievable!", I mumble.  
To my right is a set of stairs which lead to a throne above. It occurs to me that I stand in a symbolic hall and instantly feel insignificant. The men yell out Sif's name, and I continue to casually move forward to the center of the hall. I examine everything my eyes can capture with my brain working overtime to proof and dispute the information. There is so much new information being handled within my skull, I feel physically light. My brain is simply not designed to absorb so much new data …not like this. What is real, what is not real, how could this all be real …I close my eyes and take in a deep breath of air to pacify myself.  
"Over here!", shouts Fandral.  
It appears Sif had been holding herself upright by sitting with her back against the column. Now, she is lying on the floor and on to her right side. Swiftly, I rush to her side and move into position with rested knees along her torso. I open both my hands over her body, feel the heat fall from my palms, and within seconds she awakes. Sif wastes no time standing up and faces Thor.  
"We must find Loki! He brought this curse to us all!"  
Loki? Who is this man she speaks of? …oooooh. WAIT a minute. Now I remember! Thor said his brother Loki told him of my healing abilities. No sooner his name flavors my tongue, I begin to flash back to that very day. The day he came into my life and literally tore my very fabric of contentment. My piece of mind had gone to shit. I recall facing him, yelling with pure hatred and anger, "I HATE YOU! …I HATE YOU!"  
The four had been sharing their stories of what each experienced prior to succumbing to the curse. Of the four, Sif was the only resentful God. From what I gather via her emotions, 'anger' is her normalcy. Loki's name stands out in their conversations, as if his name's written in all caps and bold. No one's concerned of his well-being but rather want him found or no doubt dead. It then occurs to me that as I sat on the horse and was healing thru Ida, I kept hearing the name Hela. The moment I said Loki's name, the mood in the air changed.  
"Loki.", I mutter.  
The Gods stop talking and glance at me.  
"Who is Hela?", I ask.  
The three look at each other in question, yet Thor studies me carefully.  
"Hela is the Goddess of Death. Why?"  
"When I was healing thru the village, I …I kept hearing her name. Hela. Hela."  
"That makes sense, now! He worked with Hela!", notes Hogan.  
"No …no. I don't feel that he had anything to do with the curse."  
"Ooooh, please! She's fallen for the God of Mischief!", snarls Sif into my face.  
She's well into my personal space, for her stale breath of expired malt liquor tickles my nostrils. I throw out piercing, disapproving eyes and she returns the same. Thor shouts to the three.  
"Hold a moment!" He turns to me. "Tell me, Jules. Are you certain of this?"  
"I'm telling you! I only sensed the emotions of a woman. An evil woman. Revengeful."  
"Who IS this mortal?!", she yips, pointing at me with more distance between us.  
"I spoke to Loki, begging him to tell me what he knows. He said to go to Midgard and return with Jules, a powerful healer."  
  
"Brother! Please! Do not allow your selfish acts destroy all you know!"  
"This curse you speak of, I have no remorse for. Not after Father throws me in here without proper justification! Yet, I am suspicious of its origin.", says Loki with both hands upon his hips, smirking.  
"Stop your lies!", Thor yells into Loki's face.  
"I swear, brother! I had NOTHING to do with it!"  
Thor walks away, shakes his head in frustration, and returns his tired eyes upon Loki once more.  
"Is there an anti-dote?"  
"Anti-dote?!", laughing hysterically. "I know nothing of the curse! How should I know of any anti-dote!"  
Thor grabs Loki's brown suede shirt at the chest by the fistful, stares him down, and his eyes begin to water. He was sharing his fears. He was scared. He had a right to be scared, for the curse was strong enough to kill Gods! Loki had never seen his brother in this manner. The bags under the eyes, an exhausted stance, and the quiver of Thor's grip penetrates his heart. Regardless how much he hates his brother, he also loves him dearly. Thor was ALWAYS there for him, ALWAYS trusted him when no one else did, and ALWAYS gave him the benefit of a doubt. The guilt squeezes his chest, bringing him to look away to his left, and fights to keep his emotions at bay.  
"Go to Midgard. Return to the greenhouse I destroyed and ask for Jules. She is a powerful healer. She saved my life from certain death."  
"Jules?", Thor says in a frown, letting go of his grip.  
Loki brushes his chest, as if Thor left dirt on his clothes.  
"Yes."

Sif turns away, throws her hands up into the air in disbelief, and continues to walk away, cursing up a bloody storm.  
"Please allow me to check on his well-being. This way, I can also verify your brother had nothing to do with this curse."  
I spoke of a terrible lie. I had to. It is the ONLY way I can see this man face to face again. I want verification that this …this Loki, is also the man whom destroyed my greenhouse. The man whom invited himself into my life with no advanced warning. No invitation. The one whom turned my life upside down and destroyed all nine years of bliss. My new mission is to seek him out and get some answers.  
 _'Does he hold knowledge to my pendant?'_  
 _'Why else would he fall right on my greenhouse? Of ALL places …fall into MY life?'_  
 _'Who was I, in blue hair and skin?'_  
 _'WHO AM I?'_  
As my mind ponders, The All-Father, All-Knowing, King of Asgard, or Odin of Aesir enters the Great Hall and the four quickly move forward to greet him.  
"NO ONE is to see Loki.", Odin shouts.  
They kneel on their left knee, place their left forearm across their chest at an angle, and bow their heads. Sif approves of Odin's harsh words. She looks to Fandral and shoots him a smile with her left cheek. I hide behind the column, where Sif was discovered, and stand in place with my back against it. I look straight up and find my brown eyes greeted by the bluish purple sky and astonished there is no roof overhead!  
"Jules of Midgard. Please come forth.", says Odin.  
Damn! I really want to stay put. My body desperately needs a damn break and this pillar feels so delicious holding my body up. I'm beginning to feel physically ill. My stomach angers in hunger and my calf muscles are twitching from exhaustion. Fighting Hela's curse has taken a toll on my own well-being, yet no one here seems to give two shits. Save him, save her, save them …I'm done. I'm spent. I just want to call it a day and hit the sack.  
I leave my hiding spot and move my body into their view. I dally a bit to take several deep breaths in, exhale slowly, and begin my approach. With a gentle pace forward, I continue to think of my crazy ass day. It truly has been one Hell of a day, indeed. Honestly, I don't think I can muster any more excitement. I want this day to end. I want time to stop still. I want to …run away.  
The four stand up, as to greet me, and Thor speaks to his Father.  
"It has been brought to our attention that Hela is behind the curse. Loki may not be at fault."  
"Loki is to remain in the Rayless Vault. NO ONE, without my grant, may attend him."  
Sif is the only one smiling, at this point.  
"I assure you, he is innocent.", I say out loud.  
Odin shoots me a look I can only describe as a silent burn. We all stand at a terrible, uncomfortable silence. I physically feel as if I am shrinking under the King's heavy glance. Tapping into his emotions, he is clearly dead set on Loki's guilt, and as he speaks, he leaves his fixed eyes upon me and his tone remains dead set. It is Odin's confident, monotonous delivery of supremacy which pretty much makes it clear to me he is not going to accept my statement.  
"Take her to the Well of Rejuvenation. With water, we can strike the curse fully within all of Asgard and beyond."

Tony and Rachel got a taste of Moose's anger in more ways than one. First, additional armed men entered the transporter room, soon after the demise of the five men and my leave. With my absence, Moose didn't see the point of killing them both. Lucky them. Second, Rachel had her job suspended for a month with no pay AND had to work away from home for a full month to keep her job. 30 days straight and 15 hour shifts were spent scrubbing the deck of the Redeemer, along with five new hires. As for Tony, he lost his ability to bid on any future contracts for the next five years. It was all Moose could do, for Tony is terribly valuable. Despite his loss to bid, he still has Bruce to do the bidding for him. Bruce did call Tony the following afternoon to discuss his date.  
"I've got some news for you.", says Bruce with the speakerphone on.  
He's soldering a couple of wires to a motherboard at home, working and talking as usual.  
"News? What news?", Tony jokes.  
"Oh. I take it you already know about the date I had with Jules."  
"She told us at dinner, last night. Man, I'm really glad you two hooked up. I knew you two would hit it off! And you even made it to FIRST BASE!"  
"First base? Funny, Tony.", Bruce chuckles.  
"Now? You just gotta clean out that pipe.", Tony snickers.  
"Knock it off."  
"Did you know she had your drought beat by seven years?"  
"What?", Bruce says, stopping his work.  
"Oh. I thought you knew."  
"Fourteen years? Wow. No, she didn't say."  
Bruce no longer felt alone. All these years, he felt he was the last man on Earth to lay his lips on another. As time passed him by, he feared he will die alone.  
"Dude? I swear you both were meant to be. You're both born again virgins! I suppose that's a good thing, right?", winking at his phone.  
Bruce shakes his head in embarrassment.  
"Well? If it will please you to know she agreed to another lunch date, I will need to know what her work schedule is this week."  
"Ummmm. Well? That depends on when she returns home …from her current job."  
Bruce stops his work, once more, and stares intently at his phone.  
"WHAT job."  
Tony sighs, calms himself, for he knows Bruce is about to deliver him a verbal beating.  
"She's on Asgard with Thor."  
"WHAT?! She never told me she was leaving town, let alone Earth! What's going on, Tony!", he hollers.  
"It was an unexpected trip. Rachel approached me two days ago, asking for Jules. Actually, it was Thor whom asked Rachel for Jules."  
"Yeah, yeah. Just tell me WHY she's needed there."  
"Asgard is suffering from some kind of curse, and Loki told Thor that she could help. Help heal, that is."  
"Loki's involved? Christ, Tony! Please don't tell me BlackOps-D is also involved.", soldering a green wire to the board.  
"We used the portal within the transporter room to gain access to Asgard.", Tony says quickly in a mumble, but Bruce understood him.  
"What! …motherfuc …gaaaw!", Bruce screams.   
Tony can hear Bruce's voice distancing away.  
"Bruce?"  
Nothing.  
"Bruce? You there?", he yells into the mic of his phone.  
"Hold on a God dammed second!", Bruce yells back, barely audible.  
Tony's seen Bruce mad before, and it's not a sight to share. The mere fact he is so angry over Jules' leave to Asgard surprises him. He can only suspect Bruce has really fallen for her.  
The soldering iron fell out of his grip, when he heard 'BlackOps-D', and the hot tip landed upon the inside of his left index finger and thumb. He ran the blistered skin under cold water, and within a minute, his blister slowly reduces in size as his body self heals. He also had to ease the creature within to settle. With his breathing exercise, the beast remain at rest and eventually he returns to his table.  
"I dropped the soldering iron on my hand. Christ, Tony! You have ANY IDEA just how much danger you put her in?!"  
Tony does not answer.  
"Tony!" He can hear Tony tapping at the table, a sure sign of no good. "Tony!?"  
Tony went ahead and spilled the beans, explaining all which occurred up to my leave with Thor. Bruce rested his forehead into the palm of his hands and elbows on the table. BlackOps-D now has her name on their 'Alpha' list for killing five men. Despite self defense being an acceptable excuse, her unknown status and abilities put herself in a whole new category. Jules is now considered a threat to Earth. He worries any future dates will have to wait.

We walk thru several different large rooms before entering the garden. Dead center among what appears to be rose-like bushes stands a 4 foot stone dish. Water rises at center point, bubbling an inch above the surface, overflowing the sides and falling four feet to the circular pool below. Five stone gutters run away from the pool and toward separate walls. It just then occurs to me the garden is in the shape of a pentagon.  
"Everyone in Asgard receives this water. Infusing your healing powers into the water, those yet not healed WILL be.", Thor says with pride.  
That makes a lot of sense. It would be so much quicker this way, to reach everyone via this water source than to trot thru the Kingdom. I walk up to the pool, squat down, and rest my knees onto the edge of the pool. My right hand enters first. The water is cool and feels so wonderful. I decide to place my left hand in as well. Maybe two hands are better than one? I don't see or feel any change to the water. Just to be sure I am healing, I close both eyes and relax my body. NORPAC Hill, my spiritual retreat, comes to view. The cool Aleutian breeze caresses my body, just as the cool temperature surrounding my hands is replaced by my body's heat. Odin sent out messengers to spread the word, "Drink the water, and you shall be healed of the curse!" By the end of Asgard's day, the curse was lifted and we all returned to Hlidskjalf to meet with the King. At this point, I was feeling spacey. Volstagg had joined the team and they all begin to bolster up stories with much joy. I heard him say the following of Loki.  
"Aye. So the Kingdom could be his!"  
My attention is no longer on them. My eyes fixate on the glistening gold walls on the opposite side of the Hall.  
"Asgard IS the pot of gold. Hah!", I joke under my breath.  
As I begin to heavily daydream, the room begins to move counter-clockwise. The scene immediately changes, which I now see myself back in my former apartment. Standing in my greenhouse, I look up and see the roof is intact.  
"This was all …but a nightmare?! Oh! Thank heavens!", I shout loudly with a tremendous cheer.   
I feel absolutely joyous! My life has returned to its normalcy! I slowly bring my eyes down and smile at my thriving friends, gently rubbing the waxy green leaves of my beloved lemon tree.  
"What a TERRIBLE dream! My God. It was so real, though. I really believed all of this was taken from me!"  
The structure of the greenhouse is sound all around and all of my hanging plants appear to be in order. It wasn't until I lower my eyes to the very table which Loki fell upon. It is still broken and soaked in his blood. Shards of glass and bits of broken clay pots lay littered in every direction. Aluminum framing that once held the glass windows above now sits below, bent out of shape in disarray. My mood immediately changed, the emotional normalcy leaves me, and I look back up. My greenhouse is in ruins all around.  
"NO! NO NO NO! This is just a dream! This never happened!"  
I hear voices off in the distant, of strangers yelling forth my name. Sometimes, the young twenty somethings leaving the bar one block down my street will yell obnoxiously. How would they know my name? No one in my neighborhood knew of me!  
Suddenly, my left arm shakes violently. I look to examine my skin and see nothing out of the ordinary. Now it's my right arm. I turn around to see if someone stands behind me, but I find no one. Someone is squeezing both my arms and is shaking them!  
"Who's there! Show yourself!"  
I get another shake to my right arm. All of a sudden, my body automatically and gracefully falls backwards. The greenhouse disappears and a black canvas with millions of twinkling lights scatter above me. It's the Universe!  
"Holy shit …I've never seen so many stars!"  
I smile profusely and giggle with excitement! All this time, Thor and Fandral are shaking my arms violently to snap me out of it. My falling in the dream was I, passing out and falling backwards in real time. It is nightfall on Asgard. It's been a terribly long day and my body proved it so. Guards are summoned with a soft stretcher to transport me to my room. As we enter, three female attendants move me on to my bed. They remove my Earthly clothes and put on a one piece mint green nightgown. It is sleeveless and falls just below my knees. Thor stands in the room but cannot see me, for a thick beige curtain designed as a visual barrier to allow the visitor to carry on a conversation in privacy, blocks his view. One of the attendants approaches him and shares my condition. He requests an attendant to remain in the room overnight for observation. The attendant recognizes my importance to Asgard and assures his request will be followed.

Asgard's single moon, Tyr, sweeps over the horizon and radiates in a metallic argentine purple. The planet is full of tireless carnivores. Once a season, which Asgard celebrates three, a major hunt ensues on Tyr for the biggest Lagarfljòt one can kill single-handed. The beast is then skinned and aged by the little craftsmen of Nidavellir. The thick skin is strong and soft, making it a formidable cloth underlying battle armor for extra comfort and protection. As for the meat, it is too high in iron and therefore distastefully metallic. The four suns, all worldly bodies, emit light by chemiluminescence, or cold light. Their atmosphere is highly toxic, making them uninhabitable, yet critical for The Nines survival.  
The night is in full swing, on Asgard. It's quiet. Peaceful. Yet, tonight I do not dream. I awake to a dark, foreign room with a slight headache. I slowly sit upright, look down at my chest and see the mint green nightgown and my pendant. The sight startles me, for I don't recall ever changing out of my clothes. I quickly scan the room surrounding the bed I sit upon and find nothing is familiar. I begin to question my existence.  
 _'Is this a dream?'_  
 _'Did I die?'_  
'How long have I been sleeping?'  
I feel panic race thru my sanguine liquid. It is so quiet, my heart sounds as if it is pounding outside of my chest. Breathing carries thru the air from an unknown source, which my ears trace down to see a young, sleeping woman slumped into a green velvety chair, just a few feet from my bed. I have a terrible itch and a driving urge to do some exploration! Where am I? Besides, where the fuck is my man with the answers?!  
 _'Vanish!'_  
I exit the bed to my left side. I drift towards the French doors in the distance and pass thru like a ghost. A fairly large stone patio encompasses me and I float ahead to the stone railing. Palms rested on top of the smooth beige edge, I gasp at the beauty which surrounds me.  
 _'Where is this place, in relation to Earth?'_  
 _'How far from home am I?'_  
So, so many stars. I've never seen the night sky so bright with life!  
"I wish I had a witness, for nobody's going to believe me back home.", I chuckle.  
Bruce comes to mind and I begin to wonder how time on Asgard relates to Earth.  
 _'Do they share equal hours in a day?'_  
 _'Does Bruce know of my leave?'_  
 _'I wonder where our next date will take us. That is, will we have lunch? Dinner?'_  
Maybe it'll be a movie night! Of course, I can't help but to wonder if our next date will take us beyond the simple kiss, or what Tony would describe as 'second base'. One can only hope. I've been in a dry spell for much too long, and I'm looking forward to breaking it.  
Little do I know, off in the distance, Heimdall remains at guard with eyes fixed on me. I collapse my arms on to the stone railing and rest my left cheek on my arms, for the rest I received was simply not enough. I look out to the stars and beyond, and I begin to wonder.  
 _'What would happen if I flew away and travel beyond, far from this fairytale?'_  
 _'Would my abilities keep me from imploding in space?'_  
 _'Where would I go to?'_  
 _'How deep is space, anyway?'_  
"I just want to go home. I can't take any more of this place!", lightly sobbing under my new found friends. "I miss you, Bruce. Do you miss me?"  
The stars respond only with a shimmy of their light, but that is more than enough to feel comforted and not alone.  
In the far distance and at the edge of The Void, Heimdall watches me closely with concern.  
I wipe away my tears and pass back thru the French doors to re-enter the room. Quietly, I drift toward a large dresser mirror to view myself. My shoulder length brunette hair I brush with my fingers and inspect the hairpins securing the wig to my browns. The gown I adjust and straighten, pressing out the light wrinkles. I frown at the blue stone sitting idle between my breasts.  
 _'My life has been so bizarre, as of late. How do I justify my senses? How can ANY of this be true?'  
_ I float away to my right. What replaces my image is now Loki's. He looks at himself and smiles profoundly. He adjusts the opening of his dark brown suede shirt above his chest and then proceeds to watch me move toward the privacy curtain.  
I pass my head thru the door and look both ways. A guard stands awake to my right, yet he cannot see me. I slowly drift thru the door and careful to drift in silence. Swiftly, I float around him to my right, and then slowly drift down the hall. I notice a flash of something brown move ahead. It appears to be a person. I drift faster to the end of the hall, look to my right, and find another long hallway. I slowly drift thru the dark gray hall, finding every door is closed without a guard in sight. I ponder who or what lies behind each door. Do Gods sleep? Once more, a quick glance down the end of this hallway brings sight of someone with a long-sleeved brown shirt and gray hair move quickly out of my sight. This time I turn left. I'm beginning to enjoy this!  
Down the hall I drift, yet at a faster pace. Again, I see the mystery person, but only a leg of either knee high socks or black boots. I turn right. An iron door with a guard standing to the left quickly appears in a dead end. The guard is alert, yet he cannot see me. I drift slowly thru the door, watching the guard's eyes, which remain looking straight ahead. As I pass thru the iron door, I find myself in darkness! Pure darkness! It is MUCH too dark to see my way. The air is cold, damp, and stagnant.  
 _'What is this? A cave?'  
_ I stretch out my arms to my sides to feel for a wall. My right hand comes in contact with a slick surface and I let my feet touch the ground. I move forward, slowly, and find the floor drops.  
 _'Stairs. Yikes.'  
_ I guide my hand upon the right wall and use the tips of my toes to feel the floor and proceed down the stairs in total darkness. I begin to wonder if this will lead the way to the Rayless Vault the Gods spoke of. It would make sense. It's pretty damn dark in here. The tips of my feet no longer feel the ground lowering and my fingers discover a corner. Wide eyed, I turn to my left and spot a dim light in the far distance. As I move forward, I count three cells to my left. Empty or occupied, I cannot tell. It's so quiet here, I can literally hear my blood sloshing inside my ear canals.  
 _'I don't like this.'  
_ The light is in the shape of a white rectangle with three dark horizontal lines. I get close enough to notice it's a door and the horizontal lines are the bars in the open window. The window stands six feet high and I rise to take a peek. I see a sconce light on the far back wall and to the right is a man sitting on a metal bed. His feet are on the ground, his body is slouched forward, and both hands rest upon his legs with palms open up. I observe him closely to see him breathing slowly, yet heavily. Based on what I can tell, he looks like the person who was moving in the halls.  
 _'Who is this prisoner?'  
_ _'Did he lead me here?'  
_ _'What if this man is yet suffering from the curse?'  
_ _'Maybe he was calling out for help!'  
_ I had to know. I take a big breath in and let it out slowly to ease my nerves, for both the darkness and the unknown has introduced a bit of claustrophobia. I pass thru the iron door and remain in place on the other side. The man does not move. I slowly drift towards him and he remains idle. Maybe he is asleep? Although I am still cloaked, I move in closer with caution. I slowly move my two hands and direct them over his head, with I my eyes closed. As my hands grow hot, I recognize a sudden familiarity with the man's energy. My heart begins to beat harder, faster. Fear envelops me, embracing my nightgown. I open my eyes to find he is no longer present!  
 _'What the heck?!'_  
My heart is now racing painfully and nearly fluttering. My chest hurts!  
"Tsk. Tsk. Breaking thy Father's rule. He is QUITE unforgiving. You will be put away in a vault, much like this, for a very, very long time."  
I turn around and there stood my beautiful stranger! Silver haired, thin and tall, and those mysterious dark midnight blue eyes confirms my suspicion.  
 _'Oh my God. It's him!'_  
I back peddle quickly until the edge of the bed stops me. I would have fallen over backwards, had I not put my palms down on to the cold steel bed.  
"You …you can see me?", my voice box quivers.  
Loki laughs hysterically and his voice echoes within the chamber, amplifying to a terrifying degree.  
"Would I be talking to you?"  
I shoot him a scorned look as he turns to his left and takes a few paces away toward the door.  
"I am curious to know WHY you lied for me."  
I uncloaked myself to conserve energy and shake my head in disagreement.  
"How …how do you know any of my conversations with the King, if you are here?"  
"I know MANY things.", he bolsters.  
Why did I bring myself to this room, again? I REALLY don't like this room.  
"I know Hela conjured up the curse and was responsible for delivering it. I sensed this!"  
Loki turns to his left and takes two paces back to me. His right index finger taps his chin and he looks up at the dark ceiling.  
"Hela? Ah, yes. I did work with what your kind would call The Devil."  
"I don't believe in the Devil."  
"Oooooh, but you should! Hela, the Goddess of Death! The Ruler of Hel! And terribly gifted in sorcery!" He turns around and paces the other way. "Your senses are correct. It was I, whom worked with Hela, to bring forth the curse."  
He stops, looks down, cocks his head to the left, and eyes my nightgown. His peering eyes …I feel as if he's stripping me. It's so unnerving!  
"And you KNEW of this! Yet, you delivered a LIE to thy Father. Why!", he yells.  
He is right. Damn him! I don't have an answer to give that will make me innocent of the charges. I pondered answers from 'curiosity' to 'wanting to verify my beautiful stranger was Loki'. Either choices are pathetic, but I won't let his question break my confidence. His physically tall and dominating stance, the dark and cramped vault, and an unfamiliar World are just many of things acting against me. I keep my focus. I HAVE to. Once I get my answers, I'm getting the FUCK out of here! He turns to walk back towards the door, all the while he awaits for my response. I decide it is best to keep my mouth shut. He then points his thin right index finger at the dirt floor.  
"Ooooh. I see. You came here for answers.", he says with seduction and with too much s's in the end.  
 _'Shit! I change my mind! He's a fucking creep!'_ , I cry within.  
I can't vanish, for he can still see thru my magic.  
 _'Damn!'_  
I gently move to my right, away from the bed, and stop under the sconce light. I am shocked he figured me out! It's like if he read my mind! He knows my reason for lying to his Father! No? Wait. I'm overreacting. Maybe it's my body language?  
 _'Get it together, Jules!'_  
I adjust my composure, so not to give out any more hints.  
"I came here per Thor's request to save your people."  
Loki, with a threatening posture, quickly moves towards me and stops two feet shy. I turn my head to the right, my eyes flinch, and my shoulders go up. Because of his height, the sconce light shines into his face, which makes his head appear larger than normal. My body's frightened beyond belief!  
"I speak of this room! You smell of lies! You sought me out. Explain yourself!"  
 _'Shit! Shit! Shit!'  
_ Loki leans on the wall with his right hand and brings his body in close. The open of his brown suede shirt comes less than a foot away from my face, almost as if he deliberately does so to break me down. His face hovers over my wig, and I keep my eyes upon his smooth skin and light chest hairs …watching his chest move in and out …mesmerizing me in his musk. The fight or flight response was kicking inside on overdrive. Had he not lowered his voice, I probably would have tried to flee.  
"I owe you no thanks for your attempt to clear my name. However, I feel that I should give you some credit for trying. Interesting that my Father did not respond with judgment."  
There is a small pause. I am struggling to keep my composure together, to keep from loosing my shit. I peel my eyes away from his chest and view the steel bed.  
"Heh.", he chuckles, moving away from me and taking five steps back. Keeping his arms down to his side, he carries his voice in a gentler manner. His tone, however, does not come across as sincere.  
"You come to me for answers? Very well. Ask, and you shall receive them."  
You'd think I had a laundry list already made up for this very moment. It wasn't the adrenaline that kept me from asking. I was more in shock that I actually made it this far! To find Loki and the opportunity to get some answers?! Incredible. It's just that I never imagined I'd end up in some Hell hole, or on an alien World, to get my answers. Or ANY answer, for that matter! I look down at the ground and nervously shift my eyes back and forth. My damned mind draws a blank! Fucking figures!  
"Let us begin with you.", he says.  
Quickly, I raise my head, sharing a frown and brief confusion. What does he mean by _'Begin with you?'_ Loki walks into the pitch black corner, opposite of my position. I hear him pick something up. He settles a simple steel chair eight feet ahead, leans into the back of the chair, crosses his right leg over his left, and his arms cross over his chest. With his left hand, he motions for me to take a seat. I keep my eyes on him as I carefully move to my left to take a seat on the metal bed.

"Ahem! Approximately1,500 years ago, Midgard time, a battle was fought within Asgard. Young Odin, along with his brothers Vili and Ve, fought a race known as Stryka. The Stryka were cold, calculated creatures whom took minerals from other Worlds and Realms. They did not just take. They also destroyed. Worlds they touched were destroyed in full. They, in turn, created a powerful stone from the minerals, effectively keeping their World alive. As they continue to mine, strip, and harvest, the stone grew and their physical World grew along. Borr, King of Asgard, viewed this as a treat to his Kingdom and The Nines, for no other Worlds or Realms are to be more powerful than Asgard itself."  
"The Ice Giants of Jotunnheimr took notice of Stryka's growing Kingdom and formulated a truce with Borr to fight alongside, for Jotunnheimr would no doubt become Stryka's next victim."  
"There was already bad blood between the Jotunn and Stryka. 3,500 years before the war, a male Stryka and a female Jotunn became involved, and thru their bond they created a child. The Stryka forbid the relationship and killed them both. The King of Jotunnheimr was not amused they had killed one of their own, so a battle ensued. He sent out a party to kidnap the infant daughter, whom the Stryka took in as their own. It was a success. The infant was brought back to Jotunnheimr and was secretly raised as a full Jotunn. She was given the name Frentlae."  
"2000 years later, a war ensues between the Strykas, Asgardians, and Ice Giants. 500 years pass and the Aesirian Gods successfully obliterate Stryka. What remained of this cruel World was King Voldar. The Stryka were also enormous creatures of size. He casted a shadow over Asgard, fighting both Vili, Ve, and Odin to the death. The King knew his time was to come, for with his World destroyed, there was no retreat. Yet? He could not end it without sweet revenge."  
"He kidnaps Vili and Eir's infant daughter, and with his hands …".  
"Eir. The Goddess of Healing?", I ask with great curiosity.  
"Aye. She is.", smiling with his eyes. Loki motions to me what the King of Stryka did next.  
"He placed the infant into his giant left hand, broke off a small piece of his powerful stone, put that stone on top of the infant, closed his left hand, and CRUSHED the infant and stone together."  
Loki's left hand imitates the action, and my stomach runs sour.  
"Oh my God.", I blurt out, disgusted by his story and actions.  
Loki chuckles at my statement and takes a long pause, looks at his left hand, and continues motioning the actions of his story.  
"By his strength, he created a new stone. A beautiful light blue stone." He looks at my pendant and I naturally react by moving my right hand to cover it from his eyes.  
"He threw it deep into The Void. What happened to that stone, no one knew. Soon after he threw the stone, Vili, Ve, and Odin slayed the King. The race, no more."  
There was a long pause of silence. I look at the floor and allowed my mind to slip into deep thought. This horrendous story cannot be true. I carry death upon me? This stone represents murder?! My left hand rests palm down on top of my legs and my fingernails jut against the cotton of my gown. I am trying to decipher the importance of this story to my life.  
"The stone you wear is THAT VERY STONE.", says Loki in great confidence.  
"No!"  
I quickly look at his face in shock and rub the pendant between the index finger and thumb of my right hand. With my left fingers, I begin to fidgit with my nightgown.  
"Disgusting!"  
To even think the remains of a murdered baby sits within this stone is so foul, I feel compelled to remove it from my chest! I looked at him and respond in great disapproval.  
"I will NOT hear any more ghastly fables of yours!"  
Loki smiles and nods approvingly to me.  
"I know of many fables. I promise you. I shared no fable, here."  
There was more silence. I can hear nothing but my pounding heart and the occasional drip of water coming from the damp walls.  
"No mortal of Midgard has the ability you store. YOU, my dear, deem powers only a God would either loathe or long for.", he says with cunning eyes.  
At that response and out of a whim, I feel an urge to share my story. I focus my tired eyes upon both hands, resting upon my legs, as I spoke.  
  
"I was nine years old, when the stone came into my life. I took with me some allowance money, just in case I came across something at a yard sale. I saw an old lady sitting on the grass with a square blanket spread out in front of her. On it laid all kinds of jewelry. None of it caught my attention. I didn't wear jewelry, for I was a tomboy."  
"Tomboy?", he questions.  
"That's a girl who behaves more like a boy. Anyway. As I began to walk away, she spoke to me. She said, _'Young lady? You should have this.'_ I turned around to see who the lady was speaking to and she looked right thru me. And she motions with her hand to come over. So? I did. She picks up a rock and motions for me to take it. She said, _'The Heavens sought you, and you are to carry the burden.'_ , or something like it."  
"I looked at this so-called stone, thinking she was a nut case. It looked like plastic. A fake. She knew I didn't take her seriously, so she stood up at this unnatural speed and she's yelling with her right finger pointed at me, up and down. _'NEVER are you to leave it's sight! You MUST carry it. Everyday! Do you understand what the Heavens are telling you?!'_ "  
I move my right hand back to my pendant and rub the stone, taking a mental pause.  
"Go on.", he says.  
"I took the stone home and placed it in a sachet. I didn't have any way to wear it. So, everyday, I carried it in my pant pocket. It wasn't until I was in High School, I taught myself simple jewery-making with cheap wiring. I wrapped copper wiring around the stone, but just loose enough for the stone to move. Kinda like in a ball. And I wore it this way until College. I eventually had it professionally placed into this pendant."  
"The Jeweler guessed it was a simulated stone. A fake. Only problem is, I had it since the age of nine and simulated stones were not around then. He thought I was nuts, when I told him when I acquired it. He also thought I was a nut when I told him I could not leave it alone with him. So, he took measurements of the stone, created my pendant which I designed, and I sat and watched him work it in."  
I pause for a few seconds, rubbing the stone hard.  
"He said something startling."  
"And what is it he said?"  
"He said he barely had to fit the stone to set it in place. Normally, little prongs will hold a stone. Yet, he put it into the hole, and it stayed firmly in place without any adjustments. It's like if the stone reshaped to fit. Like magic! And that's how it came to be. In this form. In this pendant."  
"Tsk. Tsk. Such a heavy burden to carry.", he says with excessive sarcasm.  
I look at him with disgust.  
"What do YOU know about BURDEN!", I shout back. Now ticked off, I stand up, release the pendant from my fingers, and point at his face.   
"You know?" I let out a big sigh. "My life was simple, quiet, and …and happy. Very happy! Until YOUR ass showed up. You want to talk BURDEN? How about how I had to LEAVE MY VERY PLACE OF HAPPINESS WHEN YOU DESTROYED IT! Then? I had to find a new home and literally start over! And don't think by starting over, it was any BETTER than WHAT I FUCKING HAD BEFOOOORE! Then?! Fucking Stark shows up. The ocean about killed me. Twice!"  
I'm panting from rage and nearly hyperventilating. I slow down my breathing and regain my thoughts. All the while, as I was yelling and cursing him out, he leaned back into his chair and gave me that stupid smirk. Oh, I tell you, had he smiled any more? I would have gone virtual postal on his ass! I calm down as much as I could afford to. I lower my voice, regain my composure, and sadly spoke forth.  
"I think I killed my friends. I ...I'm not sure. Five men opened fired, when I opened the portal. Then, Thor and I left for Asgard. I did what I could to save them. And now I am here. I'm confused. I'm tired. And I want to get the fuck out of here."  
I feel lost. Nothing seems to make any sense. My brain still reeled in hurt from earlier, and I simply cannot process anymore info.  
"My life no longer feels real. I don't want any of this to BE real. I just want it to end. I want my life to stop. I want to go back to that very day and wished you HAD NEVER ENTERED MY FUCKING LIFE!"  
My blood boils thick, for I'm dehydrated. Heat is emanating from my body like if I am burning. I can see steam rising from my body in formation of clouds. Loki lets out a 'huh' under his breath. He stands up and remains in place, looking at me with disconcerting eyes. I sit back down on the bed with tears racing down my cheeks, but I do not cry aloud. I am too damn angry and exhausted to sob. What I need is a punching bag to help release the pent-up energy still trapped inside me. I also need a meal and a tall glass of water.  
"You had Hela curse your Father and your Brother, just so you could take the throne. Instead, it backfired. You about killed your people. That would have left you with no one to rule. Realizing your error, you sent your Brother to bring me back here to fix YOUR fuck up." I quickly stand up and point my right finger into his face. "YOU want to talk BURDEN? How about THAT for size!"  
Loki quickly turns around and walks away from me.  
"Oh, woe me!", he says as a joke.  
"Aaargh! Guilt, Loki! The burden of guilt!", I seethed in frustration.  
Loki turns around and walks up to me quickly, stopping three feet away. His midnight blues feels my chest, where the stone lay, and moves them back to my brown eyes. His anger carries thru his voice, sneering into my face.  
"The only GUILT one will be feeling inside this room is you!"  
I take a pause and continue to stare him down, despite his height of nearly seven intimidating feet. How DARE he try to spin the table on me! What am I guilty of? Nothing! There is NO way I am going to let him have his way.  
"You know what? You absolutely deserve to be locked up in this dank dungeon. And may I say that I pray you remain here for LIFE, because it's the ONLY way I can be sure you won't fuck up my life again!"  
Loki quickly jumps on me with both hands over my neck, lifts me off the ground with my back against the cold wall, and begins to squeeze and press his thumbs into my flesh. My eyes narrow and lock into his dark abyss, my fingers wrap around his forearms with nails pressing the soft suede, and I freeze in place.  
"You wretched witch! Bite your tongue! The only one in this room to see darkness will be you!"  
 _'Oh Shit!'  
_ Trying to break from his infuriated grasp, I attempt to release myself by vanishing, but my magic fails.  
 _'Flight! Rise!'_  
 _'Protection?'_  
Nothing!  
My magic is no longer, for his body overpowers my own, and he snickers loudly as I make my attempts. He can sense it. At this point, my face is beat red for I'm running out of air. Loki seethes, speaking thru his clenched teeth and enunciating too many s's.  
"Know that your absence will bring forth my Father's army. Never mind the hero of Asgard! Your pitfall will be the very stone you carry!"  
He releases my neck and I slide off the wall behind me to the floor, gasping hard. He lowers his voice to me.  
"The King knows of your stone, and he will take it from you."  
I'm still trying to recapture my breath and the lack of oxygen didn't allow me to process that last statement he made. It was all white noise, to my ears. He lowers his voice even more, with a touch of bitterness.  
"You will be dead by sunrise."  
I heard him loud and clear. There was NO sincerity, in his words. I struggle to speak with my outrage to his behavior, but it is too painful. I try in vain to keep my tone solid with confidence. Clearly, I am on defense now. I laugh at him.  
"Like a kid getting caught with his hand in the cookie jar… you are so full of shit."  
Loki squats down to my eye level with a face full of smug, for I had propped myself up and leaned my back against the cold wall. He then lowers his eyes upon my pendant and spoke gently.  
"You wear the stone, a small portion which once powered Stryka …a very powerful source of infinite power. My Father has many trophies, but not one such as this. I have no doubt he would enjoy having your pendant in his collection."  
He takes his right index finger and watched it as he drew a small circle, over and over upon the dirt, and continued to speak.  
"The day I fell upon your home was when I fought to prove to Father that I am a worthy future King of Asgard. Unlike my brother, whom choose to enchant a Midgardian against my Father's decree. I underestimated how thick blood runs between the King and Thor. So? Here I am. Punished by Father for cursing him and what he loves the most: his first-born Son. He will punish you, no different, for possessing the power once held by King Voldar. A man whom murdered Odin's Niece."  
"But I have done NOTHING wrong! If anything, the stone has HELPED your people!"  
"Your healing power has NO connection to the stone! The stone sits idle, awaiting to be born again."  
I embrace the pendant within my right palm.  
"Did it not come to life the day we met? When it lit up like the sun and drove me blind?"  
Loki stands up and walks toward the door and looks out the barred window. I regain my strength and stand up as well. My throat still burns, for I had not healed myself. I was too focused on our conversation. I carry out a healing with my left hand, and a soothing cool tingle travels down the inside of my throat. With Loki still looking out the window, he sounds off in a tone full of warning.  
"You need to leave Asgard. Now!"  
"Why now?", I ask with curiosity.  
"I can feel my Father's approach. You must leave!", he says with more gusto and now facing me.  
"I'm not afraid of your Father."  
"Not afraid? You WILL be. No army of Midgard's will come to rescue you. You will suffer here, in a room such as this, until you die of natural age. I promise you this!", walking towards me.  
Is he pulling out another playing card? Why, all of a sudden, the compassion?  
"Why, Loki? Why do you care what happens to me? After choking me to death, I find it quite disturbing you now choose to befriend me."  
Loki stops short of five feet and stares deep into my eyes.  
"Your stubborn disposition made it necessary. Clearly, I was successful."  
I shake my head in disbelief.  
"You must leave! Now!"  
"And how, exactly, am I supposed to JUST LEAVE? What. You think I can just walk up to Heimdall and ask nicey nice to send me home?"  
Loki motions his hands together, and with a twist and magic, a blade appears. It is a small, four inch simple knife. He walks up to me, stops a foot from my chest, and with his right hand he cuts open his left palm. It bleeds hard. I gasp at his painful action and panic as he proceeds to take his bleeding left hand and touch my pendant. I immediately cover it with my right hand.  
"Jules! With my blood, you have no need for Heimdall! Use your magic to remain out of sight. Once you enter his home, place your hand upon the blue cylinder facing the gateway. It will open without his doing!"  
That's right! His blood awoke the stone! I remove my hand and he proceeds to grab it with his bloodied hand. As he let go, we stand in silence, waiting for it to do something. Nothing happens and he expresses confusion.  
 _'Blood and tears! Blood and tears!'_ , recalling Tony's screams.  
At that moment, we hear a door make a loud noise from the end of the hall and Loki looks at me with wide eyes.  
"You must go! Now!", he whispers loudly.  
I still doubt this would work. My gut feeling, which has never failed me in the past, tells me I will get caught one way or the other. Getting caught running back to Midgard is more than likely worse than being found here with Loki. And besides, what do I have to look forward to? BlackOps-D is my newfound enemy and no doubt await for my return. Tony? He's probably dead. I don't want to start over. I'm tired of running. I look down to the dirt, shake my head to his ongoing whispers, for I lost all confidence of my return.  
"No, Loki. It won't work!", I whisper back.  
"You WILL die here! You MUST leave NOW!", grabbing my upper arms and whispering into my face.  
I hesitate to argue any further, for I can hear men approaching.  
"Loki. I am so tired of running. It's ALL I've done, most of my life! I just don't care anymore, Loki. I'm a mortal with nothing going for me. You, on the other hand, you are a God."  
"I will not allow my Father to hurt you!", his eyes begging to take him seriously.  
"Let him …no. Wait! Loki. I want YOU to kill me!"  
"What?!", he says a loud, stunned to my request.  
"Do it, Loki! Your Father views me as a danger, right? Make it look as if I tried to kill you. You kill me, and it will restore your Father's trust in you! Please! You will in turn set yourself free from this Godforsaken dungeon, and I? I will finally receive the peace I yearn!"  
Loki paused at the thought of my madness and thru my eyes he knows I am serious. Just then, the guards begin to scuffle toward the door. I focus my energy to fuel my anger to his entry into my life upon the destruction of my greenhouse. I scream forth horrible words I cannot ever take back.  
"I NEVER should've saved your doomed Kingdom!"  
I lunge at him with all my might with both open hands grabbing his shoulders. With all my rage focused upon his dark midnight blue eyes, I roar in anger.  
"After I'm done killing you, I'll go for your family!"  
His eyes are as wide as marbles, shocked of my performance and words no doubt heard by the guards and his Father. He takes several steps backwards, as I now attempt to choke him as hard as I am able. Just then, the door begins to unlock and a man yells "Stop!"  
"Die, you bastard!"  
Just as the door opens, he takes the blade and shoves it at an upward angle into the left side of my torso. He does so to avoid the ribcage and my major organs, but he does manage to pierce my left lung.  
 _'Should I leave her to heal …or should I follow thru with her request of suicide?'_ , he asks himself in a flash. He then turns the handle hard, counter-clockwise, to produce as much damage possible to make me bleed heavily. As the first guards come into the room, he withdraws his blade from me. I am still standing on my tiptoes and grabbing on to his neck, but loosely. My thick blood floods my left lung, bringing forth a pain I never experienced in my life. I narrow my eyes and gaze at my beautiful stranger one last time, expressing utter pain thru my spastic breathing. Just before the men peel me away from Loki, I stroke his right cheek with the fingertips of my left hand. It is my way of saying _'thank you'_ , for I cannot pass the words thru my lips. My pierced lung burns fiercely as it fills with blood and with each rough cough a river of red leaves my lips and courses down my neck.

Loki staggers forth in shock, as I am slowly dying in the arms of two guards. Odin comes into view and he quickly changes his stance, speaking out loud with a defensive posture.

"She broke in with the kiss of death!"

Loki looks at his Father with distressed eyes.

"She spoke of vengeful retribution! We have been misled, Father! She promised the slaughter of Asgard!"

Odin looks at my listless yet still breathing body. I had passed out from the pain and did not hear any of the conversation. He responds to Loki, without taking his eyes off of my body.

"She deceived us with devilry, taking advantage of our suffering. She restored our vigor to only envision the eradication of Asgard on her terms. Hela carried forth her deadly song, but Jules of Midgard is a greater danger in more ways than one."

The two guards holding me up by my arms are hailed to stop upon their leave, for Odin catches a glimpse of the pendant hanging from my neck. He also saw blood. Loki's blood. He looks back to his son and examines his bleeding hand. Loki notices his Father's curious examination and comes up with an answer.

"I am ashamed to say she did sting me a bit."

"Return to your quarters and clean up. Remain until I call for you."

Loki takes a low bow.

"Yes, Father."

Loki exits the dank cell last and follows behind the masquerade. A smirk of success shines from the lick of his thin lips, as he begins to think how clever Jules was for the plan had worked. Although he feels victorious to regain his Father's trust, he also lost a potential weapon: Jules Harper. With her dead, so was the stone. Odin will put the pendant away with all of his other powerful and mysterious treasures within The Great Room of Skatten. Nevertheless, the notion he saved Asgard from her destruction without the help of his brother Thor warmed his heart. He smiled and even laughed over the thought. He nearly shed a tear for her. Despite his place for both Thor and Odin, he promised himself as of this day he would work for Asgard. No more trickery.

Bones and muscles curse him from prolonged discomforts of the Rayless Vault, as his body sinks into his comfy velvet blue chair. Oh, how he missed his living accommodations! Such a glorious room of creature comforts blesses him. Spoiled much like his brother, his residence takes up 2,400 square feet above the top right floor of the residence hall. Thor has the upper left at 3,200 square feet. Bigger, yes, but Thor does not have a fabulous library and weapons collection to boast.

Exhausted, he attempts to quiet his racing mind.

"Such a hypocrite! My mind lays heavy over a Midgardian mortal?!"

Her smell. That Midgardian stench proves this. Yet, her abilities and the stone counters his reasoning to pursue her. His left leg crosses over his right, left elbow resting on the armchair, and his chin rests upon his hand. As his left index finger strokes the corner of his lip, his stomach growls. Measly feedings within the Vault has thinned him slightly.

"Now is not the time!", he says aloud, scorning his belly.

His mind is too busy and he rather feed heavy over his memories of Jules. Her stubbornness, lack of fear to speak against his father, a voracious appetite to stand up for herself, and the personal sacrifice she offered to regain his power position with his Father is more than enough to capture his heart.

"Why? Why your sacrifice to me? There needs to be an explanation. Perhaps you were right. I entered your life for a purpose. But what purpose? The stone, perhaps?", he speaks quietly.

In front of the French doors, a puff of gray clouds swirl in every direction. It brings his left foot back to the floor, for he knows whom comes to visit.

"You are always full of disappointment, Loki.", Hela shares.

Although Hela is technically his daughter, she is only his flesh and blood from his former life. Following his last death and reincarnation, she no longer views Loki as her Father and treats him no different as anyone else.

"Watch your tongue! Keep in mind it was your doing to kill all of Asgard! I asked NONE of it!"

Hela laughs lustily.

"It was inevitable, Loki. Total annihilation is key to Odin's fall. And you still owe me his Soul."

"Depart, Hela. The day is sour and I have no time for your farce."

She moves in closer, enraged he does not take her seriously.

"You WILL deliver Odin to me! Drop your pittance of sorrow. She deserved your deed."

He stands up and looks at her directly to show strength in his decision to kill Jules.

"Ultimately, you shall get your share of the deal."

"I am counting on it!", she scorns and soon disappears, along with the dark, smokey clouds. Loki lets out a big sigh and slouches back into his chair. He looks up at the ceiling, relieved of Hela's departure, for he has other problems to decipher. For one, he hasn't given up on the pendant. Could there still be a way to use it without Jules?

The guards carry Jules' body by lifting her up from her armpits. The nails of her toes drag behind upon the smooth floor, all the way to the healing bed. Unconscious, her heart fights to take in precious oxygen with a single working lung. Odin follows behind, cautious of her ability to self heal. Hands grip the scepter, ready at a moments notice to kill her if necessary. Upon entering the Healing Room, he orders the guards to lie Jules within the bed, unclasped the necklace, and removes the pendant from her chest. The guards then secure the Låse Magi wrist brace to both of her hands. A singular bracelet and oval in shape, odd symbols are inscribed into the golden metal, inhibiting magic within. He orders the Elders to place a sealing chamber above the bed to prevent anyone to speak to Jules.

I never did see that bright light people encounter when death approached or was certain. I suppose I was lucky, that day, to cheat death. Instead, I found myself taking a walk in the park. I watched rollerbladers pass. Joggers, too. I found an empty bench and took a seat. Nothing appeared to be out of the ordinary. I believed I really was enjoying a fine walk thru the park. Moms with strollers, exercising to lose that baby weight, passed on by. More joggers huffed past my bench. A young man walked his yellow lab. Several pigeons sitting in the tree across from the path cooed. It was a beautiful sunny day. And NONE of it appeared to be out of the ordinary. As a habit, I like to twirl the pendant in my right index finger and thumb. I went to reach for it, but it wasn't there! I looked down and was shocked it was missing! I began to feel all around my neck. I was dumbfounded! All my life, since I acquired the stone, this was the FIRST TIME I did not have it on me! I never took the necklace off. NEVER! I slept with it, showered with it, and exercised with it. Possibly the chain broke? I cursed myself for being so foolish and not keeping a better eye on the chain. I looked all around the ground. Nothing. I back tract on the path and searched the ground. Nothing. I came back to where I started, where my dream began. I felt as if I was just punched in the stomach. I become nauseated. I lost my pendant! I fucking lost my pendant!

It was a terrible nightmare. I never dreamt of loosing my pendant. Full military brigades have chased me many times over, and it never scared me. Loosing my pendant was horrifying!

Odin ordered his two sons and the rest of the gang to appear before his throne. One by one, they appear. The four had not seen Loki in person since Thor returned him from Midgard and none were pleased to see him free. Thor stood on the stairs closest to his Father. Loki second. The other four stood the opposite side. With this position, they all knew something of great importance was to be brought forth to the King. No one had a clue who it would be. Normally, it would be for a visiting Deity or God from another Realm. What they did not expect is to see Jules Harper.

My nightgown is plastered to my skin, damp from the sweat of my nightmare. I find a heavy ornate purple blanket up to my shoulders, which does not help my overheated self. I slap both hands to my chest, feeling for my pendant, and let out a cry.

"No!"

My dream was no nightmare. The stone is no longer with me.

The transparent golden cover above holds my voice within, so not to influence anyone. I look down and see that I am lying in some kind of bed or chamber. Hell, it could even be a coffin. Loki's stab comes fresh to mind, which I immediately react to flex my stomach muscles. A sharp pain radiates from my left lung.

"Ah! Oooo, that hurt."

I lift my hands to examine the unusual device around my wrists, squinting my eyes to the fine detail of raised symbols. A sudden rush of disappointment races thru me.

"I'm not dead, am I? Son of a bitch!"

I lower them back on to my belly and look around for a way out.

"Vanish!"

Nothing. I tried to float. Nothing! Frustrated, I kick the blanket off my legs and reach for the lid with my bare feet. I kick hard, making loud thuds each time.

"Hello?! Anyone out there?!", I yell within each kick.

What is happening? Where AM I? Maybe I am dead and I'm just waiting my turn to see the Creator. I stop my fight to escape, relax my body as much as I can, and close my eyes to calm the racing mind. Fighting my way out is a lost cause. Why waste my energy?

Bruce is becoming nervous of my leave, for three days have passed. Despite the time, he calls Tony in worry. He really needs to talk.

"Bruce. What is it?", for his wrist watch reads 2:13am.

"I know it's late. I'm having trouble sleeping ...".

"Yeah, I see that. Whiskey. Single shot. Always works for me. Goodnight.", Tony mumbles and ends the call.

"Wait! Tony?"

He gets out of bed, enters his lounge just across the hall, and plops his restless body on to his sofa. The television stares back at him in black, much like the air around him, but he doesn't mind. His mind creates his own entertainment by drifting off to sleep, dreaming of his next date with Jules.

"I began to worry you'd never leave Asgard.", he says upon her lips, for his hands hold her cheeks well and foreheads rest together.

"I missed you, Bruce.", Jules whispers back.

It's just what he wanted to hear, to assure she also found a place in her heart for him.

"I missed you, too.", and proceeds to kiss her feverishly. Tongues cross paths and she suckled his upper lip.

"I really missed you.", he says in a heat, kissing her chin and moving his wet hungry lips down the inside of her neck.

"Don't ever leave me again.", he says in a heavy exhale. His hot breath presses upon her collarbone and he kisses her hard, bringing forth a whine from her pink lips.

"I ...I ...", he shudders. "I love you."

An image of armed men appear over the golden cover, as well as an old man wearing white. The cover disappears and I now recognize the figures as guards. Two stand on each side of the bed and the old man leans in.

"How are you feeling?", he asks with a warm smile.

I narrow my brows and say nothing. He responds to my expression in a chuckle.

"I believe she is healed enough.", he says and backs away. From my right, both guards grab my upper arms and lift me up. I pick up my legs to clear the ledge and we begin our forward march.

"What's going on?", I ask loudly. "Why am I wearing this bracelet ...or shackles ...what is this anyway?!"

No one speaks. One guard walks ahead and one behind. The light breeze of our forward march cools my skin, for my gown is yet wet from my heavy sweat in bed. Every curve upon my body is defined, as well as my lack of a bra and underwear, for all of my Earthly clothes were removed. I make another attempt to free myself with my personal magic and fail miserably. I'm flabbergasted and pissed off.

"Do you fucking understand English!?", I shout in frustration. "God damn it!"

Bruce has Jules under his spell, both sitting on his sofa and kissing heavily. With grace he moves his right hand down the side of her cream-colored blouse and pulls it up a tad to feel her skin. She responds in kind, taking her hands to unbutton his baby blue shirt. Her open hands press up to the shoulders and pushes the shirt away, which he helps to remove. In return, he holds the bottoms of her blouse and lifts it up. She raises her arms high, as he pulls the blouse up and over her head. Lips return to each other, pressing hard and tongues fight each other to gain attention. After a few minutes of intense kissing, he whispers into her left ear.

"I want you."

Jules moves back in a shy smile, dropping her face down as she frees her breasts from the light pink bra. She tosses it towards the bookcase and grabs his head, fingers locked into his hairs, and brings his face between them. He cups his hands below each breast, suckling her right nipple until it grew and hardened. His heart beats faster, upon hearing her labored breathing and soft moans leaving her mouth. Like a disease, his mind is lost in ecstasy.

As we begin our entrance to the Hlidskjalf, a guard announces my arrival. I hear Odin approve, bringing a sudden sense of relief into my body. Maybe I'll be released and sent home. Why else would I be healed and revived? Loki got what he wanted. I get to go home. It's a win-win! The end! And we all lived happily ever after!

"I want you.", Bruce says once more but with determination. She responds by undoing the button of his khakis and unzipping the fly. With strong hands, she tugs his pants down and he graciously lifts his ass in a light chuckle. She leans into him, pressing him down into the sofa, and his eyes grow. Moving her warm lips across his chest, fingertips dance along her sweeping hairs on his heightened skin, and she reaches for his boxers. She frees his aching hard on and presses her lips upon it ...slowly swallowing him ...hungry. Dropping his head back with eyelids relaxed, he whispers "Oh ...thank you Jesus."

'Second base ...I made it to second base!', he cries within.

The guards lead me forth to Odin and stop me ten feet from the base of the steps. I keep my eyes on the King, careful not to give any behavioral cues away. Laying my eyes on Loki could mean the death of us. The two guards release me and stand back five feet. I feel a strong strike on my upper left shoulder.

"Kneel!"

"Owww!", I growl angrily and drive a disapproving glance to the guard. It really hurt. Down to my knees I drop and return my eyes on the King.

"Jules of Midgard. You saved my Kingdom, and yet you deceived us with your own personal vendetta. You are hereby banished from Asgard. Furthermore, your remembrance shall be vanquished."

Loki traces his eyes over my gown, noticing it wet and firmly sticking to my skin. He stares at my breasts, my nipples firm, and my pubic mound lines thru. He keeps his composure, withholding the shock of seeing me alive. My presence appeases him, restoring hope to his future with me. Although his father spared my life, he is unhappy my pendant is now under lock and key.

Both guards take position with their sharpened spears pointed at me. I glance at the same guard, whom hit me on the shoulder, and question his stance. Immediately, I look at Odin and glare my share of disapproval.

"I'd like to know what you meant by 'vanquished'", I snap loudly.

Odin leaves his throne, takes his golden staff, and points it at me. A huge golden bolt of lightning strikes my forehead, bringing me to scream in agony. Thankfully, the suffering is short-lived. A blessing. Loki did respond to his Father's actions by taking one step down with his left foot. He realized it, and gracefully corrected himself by returning to his original standing point. Sif took notice. So did Thor. Passed out, I slump over head first. Before my head hits the golden floor, the guards whom stood at defense raise their spears and grab my arms at the elbows to lift me up. One again, they drag me away. Odin orders Thor to return my body to Midgard.

Her tongue whips around his shaft, sucking generously and making light moans. Bruce continues to rest his head back with eyes closed. He swallows hard, feeling a rush of spasms travel down from the base of his brain, down his spine, and to his testicles.

"Ah! Jules ...I can't hold back any longer!"

She grabs his ass cheeks and sucks hard and fast, bringing forth a painful shock of electricity throughout his body. The sofa takes a beating, as he drives his fingertips into the soft cushion, yelling loudly as he let go. Her moans tremble the sensitive thin skin of his dick as she slows her pace and stops to feed from him.

"Oh ...oh my. Jules ...", he whispers, caressing her head gently with his left hand and watching her carefully lick him clean. Once again, he drops his head back to rest, closes his eyes with a smile, and let's out a soft sigh of relief.

As her body's thrown over the saddle belly down, Loki asks his brother if he could attend.

"I do not see why not."

A guard was about to saddle up with Jules, but Loki motioned to the guard to stop.

"Allow me."

Thor glances at Loki with strong interest, watching him saddle up and placing his left hand on top of her back. Curious to know why he was suddenly interested in delivering Jules away after nearly killing him, he opens his mouth. Before he could ask Loki anything, his brother moves the horse forward. Side by side, they both race across Bifrost Bridge toward Heimdall's home.

"Greetings, Thor. Loki, I will take her."

Heimdall reaches for her legs and lowers her body, cradling her in his alabaster arms. He looks down at her body and frowns to see the painful red lines deep under her mortal skin. As Loki disembarked from his horse, he catches Heimdall's glance upon her body and an expression of sorrow. Heimdall gently transfers Jules to Thor's strong arms, as he stands ready upon the golden transport pad. He walks backwards about five feet, keeping his eyes on her, as Loki continues to watch in interest. Heimdall touches the beautiful blue cylinder, pulsing madly, and the atmosphere begins to buzz. Tiny lightning bolts appear around Thor's feet. He nods to Heimdall, and walks into the gray storm.

The breeze whips his silver hairs back and his chest stands out to consume the wind first. Loki could not stop to wonder about Heimdall's subtle behavior to Jules. Nevertheless, he has other issues to contend with than to allow his curiosity to take over. Jules is alive and the stone's locked away in Skatten. Any sorrow he had for Jules was quickly replaced for devilry, for he is Loki.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Without my Nexus tablet, it's taking me longer than usual to have the next chapter, "The Calm Before The Storm", up for viewing pleasure. Nevertheless, I'm working on it! Patience, my dears.  
> I'm getting excited to post the next few chapters, for Jules' life begins to improve significantly. And then? It spins out of control. Literally.


	7. The Calm Before The Storm, Part One

I awoke to the sound of angels fighting with thunderous replies and heavy tears. The wind blew the rain drops upon my sliding glass door next to the kitchenette with such force, it sounded like glass beads pouring endlessly on ice. I find my body tucked snug under the comforts of a royal burgundy comforter. The top left hemisphere of my head pounds to a terrible headache, bringing discomfort just above my left eye socket. I take the palm of my left hand and hold pressure against the temple and groan. Never have I experienced a powerful headache quite like this. I roll on to my left side, wrapping my forearms around my head to sandwich in the misery. I moan on and off, eyes squinting and wet from the hammer pounding inside. What feels like an eternity eventually comes to a break from the jack hammer and I thankfully fall back to sleep.

When I awoke once more, I find the rain still tapping at my door. Slowly and with great ease, I prop myself with the help of my right hand and squint hard, looking at the kitchen table for any signs of alcohol, for my headache resembles much like a bad hangover. I press into my left temple even harder with the palm of my left hand. Growling with frustration, giving myself another three or four minutes before making the next move, I eventually make my way to the bathroom. My eyes dart side to side, staring into the bathroom mirror. Many small pink lines make their way from the top of my forehead, down my face, neck, and upper body. I shrug my shoulders and rule it 'pillow face' and 'bed wrinkles'.  
"Hello shower. Help me out with this fucking headache."  
The mint green nightgown of Asgard slides off my skin.  
"I'm counting on you. I'm desperate."  
I lower my head, so most of the heat will hit just at the base of my neck and upper spine. Fifteen minutes or more pass and the hot water tank could not keep up with my demands. The water slowly turns tepid, and I turn off the shower. feel my left temple throb along with my heart beat, but the intensity is gone. In front of my tall mirror I stand to examine my face, tracing the pink lines with my right index finger. I lift my chin and see they continue down my chest. Open my robe and with my right fingers, I rub the lines near my collarbone, follow the lines down my breasts and to my belly where they stop. I find this all too odd. No way can this be from sleeping in bed.  
"Damn this headache!"  
A crackle of thunder catches my attention, as well as the sound of rain knocking to come in. The thunderstorm is a welcome distraction.  
"A cup of hot tea should do the trick."  
If the caffeine won't help with the residual nag inside my skull, then I'll just have to deal with it. I walk to the table, pull out a chair, and take a seat. The green ceramic cup sets down next to two envelopes. I pick up the white letter sized envelope, flip it over to examine the sender's address, and all that's written is 'Jules'.  
"Huh. That's odd. This wasn't mailed to me?"  
Maybe it's a note from my Landlord. I lift the unsealed flap and pull out the paper. I unfold it and read the note:

_'Congratulations on your employment! Your start date will be Monday, October 4th. As per our previous agreement, transportation to and from work will be provided. A driver will pick you up at your residence at 6:30am. Work begins at 7:am. You will be greeted in the front lobby by Dr. Rose Dalton. Dress code is business casual. A change of uniform will be provided to you, when working in the laboratory. Your ID badge must be worn and seen at all times. Feel free to call with any questions prior to your start date. We look forward to having you in our family. Regards, Department of Ethological Studies & Sciences (DESS)'_

I drop the letter on to the table and reach out for the large beige envelope. I undo the flap and angle it so the content slides out. A glossy ID badge greets me.  
 _Jules Harper. Research Associate. DESS. BlackOps-D._  
Holding the ID between my right index finger and thumb, I begin to slap it several times on the palm of my left hand. My aching mind begins to wonder. When did I ever have a job interview? The headache curses me once more for thinking too hard. Several sips of hot tea chases the discomfort and concerns of my suspicious employer. I toss the badge on the table, let go a loud sigh, and walk to the sliding glass door. The glass panels of my greenhouse glistened, drenched from the angry clouds above.  
"The rain is really something today."  
Thanks to the strong North winds, the heavy precip drives right at my door, creating a waterfall-like effect. It's mesmerizing to watch and soothes my debilitating headache.

The next day comes much too soon, as my clock radio blasts to David Bowie on XRT. Never was I a morning person.  
"5am ...ugh."  
I put on a cream-colored sleeveless blouse, black slacks and, and slip on a pair of Mary Janes. The pink lines on my face and upper body are no longer present.  
"This looks nice, but when did I buy this outfit?"  
I cook up two eggs, scrambled. A cup of hot green tea tickles my nervous system, as I relax and listen to the news on NPR. With my headache now gone, my curiosity to when I ever interviewed for this job returns. I grab the ID with my right fingers and repeatedly tap it along its edge to the table.  
"What am I missing, here? When did I interview? The company name doesn't even ring a bell."  
My constant nagging question begins to make me nervous. To keep myself cool and collected, I repeatedly tell myself I am over thinking it. I make a cold turkey sandwich on a bagel with lettuce and provolone, along with two celery sticks graciously filled with peanut butter for lunch.

I stand outside my building door at 6:25am, nervously shifting side to side as I await for my ride. Exactly at 6:30am, a black four door town car pulls, parks, and the driver rolls down the passenger side window.  
"Good morning, Miss Harper. The back door's unlocked."  
"Thank you." I open the door and take a seat. Black leather interior. A small table for a laptop. There's even a newspaper on the back seat. For real?  
"My name is Hal. You can call me your Pal. It's all the same."  
"Nice to meet you, Pal Hal.", I chuckle. We exchange laughs.  
The rest of the ride is quiet, for he didn't say another word. I observe the occupants within the vehicles traveling along us on the highway of life. So many bodies move past me, it sets my mind to a tranquil state. If anything, it's a welcoming start to a new day.

Pal Hal pulls up in front of my employer and I thank him for the ride.  
"I will be right here, waiting for your leave in the afternoon."  
"Thank you very much!"

I exit the car, walk up to the double glass doors, and turn to watch Pal Hal drive away. For a split second, I feel like royalty. A ride to and from work? Everyday? Damn. I'm liking my job already, and I haven't even clocked in yet!  
I enter the dull concrete gray building and quickly feel small. It's a very large foyer. "Woooow.", I say under my breath.  
This place is snazzy with shiny black marbled walls and floors. The floor is heavily waxed, resembling that of black ice, and as I look down at my feet, I see a clear reflection of myself. An older Caucasian woman approaches me from my right. She appears to be in her mid-fifties with short, bouncy, shoulder-length brunette hair. She is slender and around six feet tall.  
"Good morning, Jules Harper. I am Dr. Rose Dalton." I reach out to shake her hand.  
"Good morning, Dr. Dalton." Her hand shakes mine with striking confidence.  
"Please, call me Rose. What is your preference name?"  
"Jules is fine."  
"Okay, Jules. To begin, I'd like to welcome you to BlackOps-D. The world's finest research facility. ONLY the best, hands down. Even the Brits don't have an upper hand! And the Reds? They can only dream to play with our toys."  
I follow her to the Dept of Ethological Studies & Sciences. The research facility occupies the same building I entered. To get there, we took an elevator ride down several floors. We're clearly underground. But much like the movies, any research facility underground typically means 'top secret', and this made me a bit nervous.

 _'What am I getting myself into?_ '

I sat thru a grueling three-hour orientation with six other new hires, and every one of us were hired for different departments. The orientation was a bore, generalized with focus on the history of the company and explanation of the divisions on site. Filled with pomp and circumstance, the company glorifies itself to the highest degree, pointing out the commonalities of other organizations much like it around the globe. Yet, B.O.D. claims the others are merely a reflection of themselves and weak in technology. 'Spies and garbage', the company says. There's plenty of paperwork to hash thru after the orientation. Oddly enough, Dr. Dalton escorted me out of the small conference room and to my department. I didn't have to read any of the madness or drop my blood upon the mass paperwork, and that was alright with me.

My desk is stocked with a hot plate to keep my coffee cup warm, a generous supply of pens and mechanical pencils, a bowl of M&M's, and a really nice MacBook. Come to find out, I'm hired to aid Dr. Dalton and her staff with behavioral research of rhesus monkeys. BlackOps-D wants us to test out telecommunication and telekinesis, monkey to monkey. I really wanted to ask Rose if this was for real. I mean, come on. Telekinesis? You're shitting me, right? Instead, I keep my questions intact and listen to the fine details of the new research project in store. I will be responsible for behavioral documentation, as well as modification. John, the Lead and long-time Research Assistant to Rose, will be compiling the data. He's D.E.S.S's programming and math guru, plugging and chugging all of the department's raw data to display into meaningful information. Then there's the second shift Research Assistant, Jose. His job is much the same as my own, but he has it easy. The rhesus monkeys settle down right after 6pm, giving Jose nothing but time to read, talk on the phone with his wife, or watch movies online. When he leaves at 12:30am, the roaming security guard peeks will take a quick glance into our office and is instructed to take a quick listen for the monkeys. No one is allowed into the staging area, which gives access to the monkeys, unless escorted by one of us. _'This is going to be interesting.'_ , I think to myself.

A stocky man in his early thirties walks into the lab wearing the same light gray attire, which is folded neatly upon my desk.  
"Jules. This is John Muhone. He's the Lead Assistant."  
"What she meant to say is that I'm the Lead Ass around here.", he jokes. We shake hands and exchange our greetings with laughter.  
"Before you leave, I will have you meet Jose. He works the second shift.", says Rose.  
First things first, Rose checks on my ability to shift the monkeys into a clean holding cell. She is testing my demeanor with the monkeys, as well as my skill level. I fill the clean cell with monkey chow, fresh veggies and fruit. Before shifting the monkeys, I do a visual count.  
"How many rhesus are there?"  
"Six.", says Rose.  
I slowly unlock the handle, pull it away from the wall, and jiggle it a few times to gain their attention. Quickly, their nimble bodies move with grace toward the door. When all six are present within the holding cell, I push the handle back into the wall and lock it in place. Rose smiles and taps away at her iPad.  
"Nicely done! Interesting they all accept your presence so quickly, considering you are a stranger.", she says, which makes me feel pretty damn good.  
I clean out their sleeping quarters with fresh shavings, straw, and water, as well as a walk thru with Rose inside their 'outdoor' dome. My final task is to observe their appetites and movement within the holding cell. Anything out of the ordinary is noted. Each monkey has a number branded on it's back. Two preferred the monkey chow first. The other four snagged at their favorite fruit or veggie and hauled away two to three pieces to a safe distance. Fifteen minutes pass and the monkeys are shifted 'outdoors' for exercise, where they remain at play for the rest of the afternoon. I observe their behavior from an enclosed viewing platform with one-way mirrors. It stands five feet off the ground, giving me a good overall view of their playland and activity. With my stylus, I note which monkeys spent time with whom the most, the ranking social status, locations each monkey preferred to spend time in, and most importantly, which pairs communicated with each other the most. All kinds of enrichment items are strewn about in their yard. Most enjoyed swinging and chasing, rather than to play with the man-made toys. I note on the iPad with my stylus, _'Remove enrichment items. They're desensitized.'_

Lunch comes with a welcome. It was later than usual, from what Rose tells me, due to the orientation running an hour longer than usual.  
"I see you brought lunch today. I usually like to treat my associates to lunch on their first day. How about it? You like Chinese?"  
Rose, myself, and John take a ride in her Toyota Camry off site to Jung Lee's. The food is really good here. I order veggies in brown sauce and tofu, eating the entire plate clean. Oddly enough, we didn't do a lot of talking. I expected many questions fired my way from either one. The only questions I received were 'Do you find your desk accommodating?', 'Do you drink coffee or soda?', 'What's your favorite food, because we order out every Friday.', and 'If you want overtime, let me know. There is plenty to go around in other departments.' Where were the NORMAL questions, like 'Where did you go to college?' and 'Are you married/have family/kids?' As they chatted away at each other, an itch below my dermis fired back the same questions at myself: "Where DID you go to college? And where IS your family?"

Lunch is typically thirty minutes long, but today is an exception to the rule. We were gone a good hour and twenty minutes. Upon our return, she does show me the lunch room, i.e. Vendoland. A variety of hot/cold food and beverage vending machines line up against the same wall.

After a full three hours of observation and follow-up documentation, the end of my shift brings me to meet Jose. He's a good-looking Hispanic, probably in his mid thirties. He clearly works out, for his biceps screams for the ladies.  
"Nice to meet you.", he says with a firm hand shake and a flex of his bicep muscle. I can't help but to think this guy is showing off on purpose, for it's too obvious. "I'll take care of shifting the monkeys to their sleeping quarters. This will give you time to wrap up on your work. It's no problem."  
I watch as he brings them back in for the night. He hoots along, calls each by number, and praises their cooperative move.  
"What do you think?", he says with a slight head tilt, clearly looking down at my breasts.  
"What. Their shift? Either they're really tired or you have the vocals only they can understand."  
He finds this funny and laughs out loud.  
"I like your style. You've got a sense of humor, and this is good!" He leans into my right ear and whispers. "You'll need it around here. For real."

I exit the building and spot Pal Hal waiting for me, just as promised. I get into the back seat and slouch back in relaxation.  
"How was your day, Miss Harper?"  
"Please. Call me Jules. And it was a good day, thank you for asking."  
"Glad to hear your day went well.", he returns in a slight monotone.  
Off we went, back on the highway, and straight to my building. I thank Pal Hal for the ride, get out, and watch him drive away as I enter the building. My mailbox sits empty, much like my life.

Reflecting back to my first day at B.O.D., I must agree it went exceptionally well. I didn't know what to expect, really. I'm just tickled pink that it went so smoothly. My job feels like a good fit. I change out of my clothes and into a pair of sweats and a t-shirt. I look into the standing mirror and examine the skin of my face and neck. The pink lines were gone in the morning and didn't return.  
"Thank God."  
Despite the fact the markings were gone, I still can't shake away my curiosity. What were those lines? I make a cup of hot brown rice tea, sit cross-legged upon my burgundy comforter, and reflect on my life. A barricade exists between my past and current events. Baffled, I stare at the liquid quietly steaming from my green ceramic mug.  
 _'Why can't I recall my past? I know I went to college. I know I have family. I should remember my job interview, or the last time I went shopping.'_  
Frustrated, I take bigger sips than I should of the hot tea. It burns the roof of my mouth and the back of my throat, as I force the heat down. Even the pain does not trigger a memory.  
 _'Maybe I'm ill. Maybe there's something wrong with me. Those lines ...it's not blood poisoning, for I'd be dead by now.'_  
Over and over, I ask myself the same questions, until I give up asking. The broken record is just that. It's broken and I've lost my patience to even make an attempt and fix it.

My next four days of my first week on the job is routine and uneventful. Lunch in Vendoland is a nice break away from the iPad. Among the fifteen round tables, which each seats four, I found a nice spot in the far corner of the lunch room. I sit facing the room, just to keep an eye on the traffic. After I finish my lunch, I lay my Sudoku book on the table and work a few puzzles to kill time. I don't recognize anyone in the room, but a handful recognize me. On Thursday, Rachel and Bruce took their lunch to my floor. They were surprised their badges allowed access, for they assumed the floor would be banned for obvious reasons by Moose. Bruce sat facing me on the opposite end of the room and quietly ate his Reuben, looking my way too often without my notice. He prayed he and I would capture a short glance, but I never did give him the opportunity. I quietly sat alone, worked my puzzles, and then left him. Friday comes and Rose orders a half cheese half sausage pizza for us. I sit at my desk and enjoy lunch, chatting it up with John. John knows the protocol. He avoids asking me any personal questions and keeps it work friendly. Jose is also aware of the protocol, but his smart-ass persona challenges it, time to time. Both Rose and John left an hour early today. As I clean up my desk, Jose asks me a question.  
"So. You single?"  
His question startles me, for it's the first time anyone at work has asked me anything personal.  
"Yeah."  
"Good for you. Working here? You'll stay single. And if you don't believe me, ask anyone of their relationship status. I'm the oddball. I'm married with three kids. All in High School. Working second shift is a blessing. No shit."  
"Well. Thanks for the heads up.", I say, smirking.  
"I'm pretty good at hooking people up. So, if you eye someone? Let me know.", he says proudly and with a nod.  
"Right. I'll keep this in mind.", narrowing my eyes.  
Is he for real? I shake my head, chuckling as I grab my purse and lunch bag. I leave the room to hear him hooting along with the monkeys, as he shifts them inside for the night. What a clown.

My month of October flies past me in a blur and cooler temperatures bring me to set up the heater inside my greenhouse. Mr. Rey stops by for November's rent, and I give him the exact amount in cash. The days of extra thousands is over, but he doesn't mind. I'm his favorite renter and he's still very thankful for many years of wealth. Most of the extra cash I offered him over the years sit idle in a secret location in his home. The last time he took count, two hundred thousand dollars lay in shoe boxes, waiting to see the light of day.

"Hey, bro! What's up? Did you stalk Jules today at lunch?", asks a curious Tony in his usual sarcastic tone.  
"I did. She's too damn busy with her Sudoku book. She never looks around. She doesn't even look at anyone on her way out. She's like ...lifeless. I can't stand it! Just ONE glance, Tony! It's ALL I ask for. Four Thursdays in a row, and not ONE glance!"  
Bruce is frustrated, and this breaks Tony's heart. Stark can be a hard headed asshole and cold to most people, but not to Bruce. Good 'ol resourceful Tony comes up with a solution.  
"I think I can help. I can't get inside, so you'll need to do this on your own."  
"I'm already fretting your idea.", responds Bruce with a sigh.  
"C'mon! You hate the place as much as I do! Don't worry. They CAN'T fire you any, so listen up. After she leaves for the day, see Jose at DESS. He will help you."  
"How do you know this?", Bruce asks in a burst of laughter, for he believes Tony is full of shit.  
"He owes me one. Just see Jose. Tell him your favor will break him even. With me."  
"You're serious."  
"Would I lie to you?", Tony smirks.

Bruce feels apprehensive, as he approaches the door noted 'DESS'. It's a little after 5pm, when he enters the quiet and dark office. I was just grabbing my purse and saying 'goodnight' to Jose, when Bruce walks my way.  
"Hi. Can I help you?", I ask.  
He stands there and stares at me like a deer locked on to the headlights of a car. What's wrong with him? Is everyone weird around here?  
"Are you looking for Rose? She already left for the day."  
"Ah, no. Actually, I'm here to see Jose.", still appearing spooked.  
"Follow me.", I say, feeling somewhat befuddled by his behavior.  
Jose is talking to number six, passing extra monkey chow along, when I walk into the staging area. He reacts startled, quickly wiping his right hand clean. I smile at his reaction, caring less he offered food outside of Rose's strict feeding rules.  
"What's up! Thought you left already.", he responds wide eyed like a boy caught with his hands in the cookie jar.  
"I was on my way out, and this man requested to speak with you. Oh! I'm sorry." I turn to Bruce. "I forgot to ask for your name."  
"Dr. Bruce Banner.", reaching out to shake my hand. I respond, shaking in return with a light smile. His warm right hand holds my own, fingers curled and tips pressed into my flesh. He continues to hold me as he speaks to Jose.  
"Tony Stark recommended you ...". He immediately pulls his hand back, realizing he was still shaking my hand. "Sorry.", he apologizes, fidgeting his fingers together into knots.  
"Um. Okay? On that note, I'm outtie. Have a good weekend!", I say and leave.  
Jose is no fool. He noticed the chemistry and begins to laugh in hysterics.  
"I ...I'm sorry. I don't see what's so funny.", says Bruce with his arms crossed and a stern expression of criticism.  
"It's pretty obvious. Jules nailed you with the love potion number nine! Can I blame you? Of course not. If I wasn't married? I'd tap that. She's cute, funny, and takes nobody's shit. So. What can I do for you, Dr. Banner?"  
Bewildered, he shares a light laugh. He toys the hairs upon the backside of his head with his right hand, nervous to ask anything. After taking in a deep breath and a slow exhale to relax, he lets his purpose known.  
"So. How's she doing?", Bruce asks.  
Jose lowers his smile and drops his arms to his side. "What's it to you?"  
"We dated. Once, before she began her employment here. We're supposed to go out on another date, but a situation came up. I can't say much more. I shouldn't even be here.", he sighs softly. "I care about her. A lot. I just want to know if she's doing alright."  
Jose smiles, picks up a piece of monkey chow.  
"She's doing quite well, considering she has no prior experience in research. She's a natural."  
Bruce watches Jose pass a piece of chow into the small, eager fingers of number six.  
"So. Why did Stark send you to me?"  
"None of her friends, including myself, are allowed to have any access or communication with Jules. Moose's orders. But ...maybe you could, you know, get her to notice me? Um. Since I can't make the move, if she did herself, Moose can't do anything about it."  
Jose looks at Bruce with bewildered eyes.  
"Is she in some kind of trouble? I mean, that's just crazy talk. Moose ordering no contact with her friends? Christ. He can do that kind of shit to us?"  
"It's terribly complicated. She, ah. She actually doesn't remember us. Retrograde amnesia."  
Jose quickly snaps with his right fingers at Bruce's face and eyes widen.  
"I KNEW something was off about her! Rose said, 'No asking personal questions.', and Jules never talks about her family, friends, school, nothing!"  
"So. Can you help me?", he asks with a quiver of desperation.  
Jose smiles and pats Bruce's right shoulder twice, while leaving the staging area with him.  
"I'm known as the matchmaker, and you've come to the right man."

Wednesday. 11:15am. I'm sitting at my usual lunch table, eating the same damn sandwich: thin sliced turkey with lettuce and provolone on a plain bagel. I live a simple life, rarely breaking away from my norm. A woman bursts into laughter, and I raise my head to investigate. I lock eyes with a salt peppered, brown-haired man. His eyes lay heavy upon my own.  
 _'Dr. Banner. He's ...staring!'_  
I return my eyes fast upon the Sudoku book. A flutter launches in my belly, setting forth a gentle squeeze, and my sandwich settled within the confines of my stomach disagrees. I quickly pack up early and leave to my desk.  
"She looked at me, Rachel!", he whispers loudly with excitement. "Why did she leave so soon? She still has 15 minutes."  
"I don't know. Maybe she needs to use the restroom? She probably pee'd her pants, when taking notice of your eyes.", Rachel jokes.  
"Not funny.", he murmurs.

The rest of my afternoon was filled with mental distractions. I lacked focus, during my afternoon observation. I kept staring off in the distance, fixing my eyes upon the faux tree trunk sitting dead center of the exhibit. My mind kept returning to the moment I locked eyes with Dr. Banner, feeling his eyes reach out to me like a needy child, causing my stomach to turn over from the jitters within. I don't understand what I experienced at lunch. All he did was stare me hard, yet I feel there was much more to it. But what? Jose had been trying to talk to me about Bruce since Monday, but Rose had been sticking around past 4pm on a daily basis. For two weeks. Jose updates Bruce with short text messages on his personal cell, advising him not to stop by due to Rose's late night stay-in's.

Loki's curiosity of Jules had been eating him alive, since her departure from Asgard. Despite his Father's strict rule not to enter Midgard by any means and only under the accompany of Thor, he devices an idea to stalk her incognito. It is the only way, to keep out of Heimdall's watchful golden eyes. He spends a great amount of time in his study, scouring thru his collection of books on magic. Luck has it, he devices a verbal spell out of three different books to allow him to leave Asgard in spirit and appear in the form of an animal. He decides to mock his father and appear as his own two pets, the raven.  
"When there is a will, there is always a way.", Loki smugs, as he makes his preparations.

All night, I awoke at random times for no valid reason. I dreamed none, but my mind still remained restless over Dr. Banner's eyes. When the clock radio kicked on at 4am, I moaned loudly with great disapproval.

"Good morning, Jules!", says Hal Pal.  
"Good morning."  
Quietly, I sit in the back seat and watch the traffic against us. I can't shrug off my odd experience at lunch yesterday. It's like ...I know him from before, yet I only met him once that Friday night before leaving the office. How odd.

I avoid Vendoland and eat my boring turkey sandwich outside on a park bench, just along a path leading out to the beach. For the following week I continue to eat my lunch at the same bench for the weather held fair. On Friday, the rain kept me at my desk, which was fine for Rose ordered out pizza again. Bruce appeared for lunch on both Thursdays and took notice of my absence. He didn't question it the first Thursday, but this week he wondered where I was. Later in the evening, he sent a text to Jose to ask if Jules was doing alright and explained her absence at lunch concerned him.

Rose and John left work early at 3pm, leaving just myself and Jose at 4pm. As I clean up my desk for the day, Jose approaches in a great mood.  
"So. You got plans this weekend?"  
"No. No plans.", I say in a smile, filing my papers away.  
"I see. Remember that guy whom stopped by the other night?"  
I face Jose, narrowing my brows and share a slight smile. "You mean Dr. Banner?"  
"Yeah. So. You think he's cute?", fiddling with an extra fine black pen in his left fingers.  
I immediately look back at my desk and set my purse, the messenger bag containing my work laptop, and lunch bag on top.  
"Jose! C'mon.", I grimace in an obvious reaction of embarrassment.  
"I see.", he says in a low tone, turning around and walking thru the door to the staging area.  
"Wait a minute!", I holler for his attention. What does he mean by 'I see.'? I enter the staging area and interrogate Jose. "What did you mean by 'I see'?"  
"Just that. Why?", grabbing a broom and sweeping away with his back to me.  
I cross my arms, agitated by his behavior, for he is holding back. It is too obvious. "No. You're starting shit. I can tell.", I gripe.  
He turns around with a startled expression and stands with his mouth open in surprise. "Start shit?"  
"Are you? I mean ...", nervously shifting my right leg. "Never mind."  
I leave the staging area, grab my things, and high tail it to the elevator. Jose drops the broom and runs after me.  
"Hold on! Just hold it a minute!"  
I'm already in the elevator, and quickly press the open door button.  
"So? Do you or not?", he asks.  
I knew what he was asking, yet I don't understand the question. Why does he want to know so badly? "What's it to you?", I grumble, no longer smiling.  
"Curious. That's all."  
"Curious? Really?", still not smiling. I let the button go and watch him disappear behind the door. Jose stands in confusion to my sudden anger.  
Why am I so Goddamned angry? Why can't I just tell Jose the truth?  
 _'Oh yes. He is adorable!'_  
 _'Why yes, Jose. He's cute! Thank you for asking.'_  
 _'Would I? Why yes, I would fuck him.'_

"Is everything alright, Jules? Bad day at work?", asks Pal Hal.  
"No. It was another fabulous day. Just a long work week, I'm exhausted, and I'm so glad the weekend is here." I lied, but Hal bought it.

Bruce was driving home from Tony's when he received a text from Jose. He takes a quick glance. 'Call me.'  
Bruce hurries up the stairs from the garage to his kitchen, set his briefcase down on the counter, and speed dials Jose.  
"Hey Bruce. Got news for you on Jules."  
"Yeah? Fire away!", anxious with the fridge door open.  
"I asked her if she found you cute."  
"AND?"  
"Dude. I'm great at reading people, alright? But she's a whole different category. I can't figure her out. I want to say she's interested, but she didn't answer my question verbally."  
"So? What did she do. Smile?" Bruce pours milk into a bowl and opens the box of Apple Jacks.  
"No. She gave me that look. You know. The 'oh no you didn't ask me that question' look. She didn't smile. Just gave me the eye. I'd say she was pissed off."  
Bruce sets the box down slowly upon the marbled countertop. "Pissed off?"  
"Yeah. At me for asking. I take it she doesn't like anyone knowing her business. I doubt it was about you. Only because when I first asked her the question, she reacted timidly. My hunch about how she feels about you is this. Four out of five stars. You have a really good shot at a kiss and more than likely will nail her in bed. Just my opinion."  
Bruce laughs, stirring the cereal around in the red bowl. "Four out of five stars, huh?"  
"I'll pry again next week. Rose's been pulling late nights to prepare for a dry run meeting with the big wigs for our research presentation in two weeks. I'll text ya. Anything specific you want me to ask her next?"  
Bruce's mind comes up blank and continues to stir the green crunchy circles in the milk. "Ask if she'd go out and have a beer with me."

Just a week away from Thanksgiving, the first winter snow arrives. Two inches of wet frozen vapor on a Saturday, and I take my kitchen broom to make a path to my greenhouse door. I find my friends all smiling in the warmth of both the sun and the working heater. I have a variety of veggies growing and flowers blooming in various locations, thanks to a boost in nutrients. Otherwise, they would all be dormant. Depending where you stand in the greenhouse, it could smell sweet, tangy, or herbal. I have a comfy chair in a corner, nestled next to two lemon trees. It's where I like to relax after dinner or at any given moment. Sometimes, I read a book. Sometimes, it's just me and a cup of hot green tea. My chair faces a long wooden table, filled with a variety of potted herbal plants. Today, I sit back and sip my tea. I look at the table and begin to daydream. I see myself slowly walking forward, watering my herbal plants upon the long wooden table. I'm smiling away, nipping away some extra flower buds on the pepper plants to help the early green peppers to retain the energy needed for development. Just then, in an instant, something crashes onto the table and breaks it into smithereens. I jolt awake from my daydream, spilling some of the warm tea upon my pants.  
"Oh dear!", I exclaim, brushing off the loose liquid with my free hand.  
I take a sip of what's left of my tea and scrutinize the table. _'How strange.'_ , I think to myself, for it felt so real. The impact I felt from the air reverberating on my skin was genuine and physical. I jolted back to reality too soon to take notice what crashed on the table. I look up and scan the glass roof and see it's intact. My chest heaves hard to take a deep breath in, and I exhale slowly to clear my troubled head. A last gulp of my tea does not end my concerns. I remain in my chair for another twenty minutes, rehashing my dream several times over.

Monday. It's lunch time in Vendoland, and I'm more opt to sit in with strangers and take the chance to face Dr. Banner. I invested in an iPod, loaded with my favorite tunes, with the sole purpose to drown out all life around me. All conversations cease to my ears, and like a security blanket, I sit comfortably with my same turkey bagel sandwich and Sudoku book. I find it funny that no one else will sit at my table. Sometimes, Rose will sit with me. Other than that, no one ever does, and I welcome the time alone.

Loki and Thor stand within the halls of Glaðsheimr, awaiting word from the Council regarding a settlement as punishment to be served to Glostaud the Herder. Thor caught him hoarding a sack of gems settled upon the shores of Vanir with an attempt to sell it outside of The Nines in illegal trade. As he and his brother chat and joke about Glostaud's previous failed attempts of similar fashion, a courier hastily approaches Thor and delivers news from Heimdall.  
"Rachel of Midgard is requesting your presence, my Lord. It is regarding Jules Harper."  
"Brother! Please allow me to attend.", pleads Loki.  
"Why such interest? After nearly killing you so.", Thor asked, amused of his request.  
"She cannot be trusted, even in her delusional state of torpor. I may be able to give insight of her condition, should this be Rachel's concern."  
"Very well. Shall we?", Thor smiles.

Thursday is a whole different story. Soon after my arrival into Vendoland, seven other people also entered. Five entered a minute after my arrival. The last two came in thirty seconds after. Four sit together to my far left. Two sat together, far center. One sat alone near the coke machine. I don't take the time to look at the faces, for I care less whom sits in the lunchroom. I bring the ear buds to my awaiting ears and drown out the chatter. Most people talk about work on their lunch, which is a pet peeve of mine. I don't talk about work before or after, let alone at lunch. If I'm not getting paid to talk about work, then I don't bring it into conversation. I eat my usual bagel with turkey, lettuce, and provolone sandwich, pull out a container filled with baby carrots, and munch away. I kill the remaining twenty minutes, solving Sudoku puzzles at level medium. Just as I am solving a box and ready to write down the number nine, I feel a strange energy crawl over my body. My hairs upon my forearms stand erect and my body freezes. No sooner do I experience the oddity, the hairs fall to a rest and my muscles relax. I slowly rest the tip of the lead pencil to the paper and continue to stare at the puzzle, waiting for the sensation to return. The wait felt like minutes, but was only thirty seconds long. The energy never returns, bringing me to let out a quiet 'hmph' and I write in the number nine. Two minutes later, the crawling energy returns. It begins at the top of my hands, works up to my shoulders, and moves over my chest. I look up and scan the room. Everyone is chatting away and nothing appears to be out of the ordinary. Bruce has his head down to the table and eyes up, noting my glance across the room. He whispers to Rachel.  
"She's looking."  
I look back down at my puzzle and shift my body to cross my right leg over my left. At this point, I'm feeling somewhat creeped out. Nervous, I rest my left elbow upon the table and chew at my thumbnail. A minute passes and I feel that God damned energy travel not just over my skin but THRU my body. It feels as if someone's eyes are pressing upon me, trying to break thru my epidermis and reach into my Soul. With eyebrows narrowed, the tip of the pencil rests on the page. I stare at the unfinished puzzle, fixated on the warmth swirling inside my chest. As my left thumbnail takes a further beating from my nibbling incisors, I move my eyes back and forth over the table and feel anxiety blast my skin. The sensation stops abruptly, bringing me to take several big breaths to calm myself. I solve a few boxes of the puzzle, when the sensation returns.  
 _'For fucks sake. Who is staring at me!'_ , I anger.  
With my head still looking down at the puzzle, I slowly raise my eyes and look forward. The two men sitting ahead in the middle of the room are talking, but I hear none of their dialogue. A well built blonde man is sitting to the left. A skinny silver-haired sits to the right. The sensation leaves my body, soon after I set my eyes on them both. I watch inconspicuously, keeping my head lowered as I pretend to work on my puzzle. The blonde begins to laugh and then looks my way. In his smile he winks his right eye at me. I drop my eyes back to the page. It wasn't him, but the fucker noticed I was looking. Another set of minutes pass and the sensation of someone staring at me returns. I continue to move my pencil to appear I am focused on the task.  
 _'Oh, for Christ's sake!'_  
I quickly raise my head to see who's responsible for violating my body. The blonde man is looking down at the table. The man with the silver hair is looking right at me. We lock eyes. Typically, I would have looked away. Yet, I couldn't. We remain locked, eye to eye. His energy swirls inside my chest, warming me throughout, and I feel my crotch tingle. My mouth slowly opens in awe, for a beautiful man with deep blue eyes and a youthful face that doesn't match that of his silver locks is touching me with his magic. A familiarity runs thru my head, yet I can't recall a time spent with this mysterious man. My chest heaves in heavy breaths as my eyes begin to droop to his hold. The warm energy grasps my chest even further, relaxing every muscle in my body. I let go of my pencil, and it makes a light tap against the table.  
"What is she doing?!", Bruce whispers in concern, not realizing who I was sharing a moment with.  
A terrifying loud bang hits me, jolting my body and breaking my trance. The man sitting alone to my right intentionally drops his hardcover book, having caught us locking eyes to break our focus. Thor tilts his head to Loki and shares a confused look.  
"What was that all about?"  
The four sitting in the far left corner were paying attention, and Bruce begins to fume. Realizing I locked eyes with Loki, he suspects Loki was messing with my head. I no longer can sit still, and my poor left thumbnail takes a beating from my strong bites. My anxiety peaks and I have a need to run. I clean up my table, grab my things, and walk out in a hurry with my head down. I keep the music playing in my ears to drown out any conversation as I hightailed it back to my desk. Bruce stands and lashes out.  
"Were you messing with her head, Loki!?"  
"She looked at me and I only returned a smile. I cannot help she finds me charming.", he fires back.  
"Brother.", Thor scorns.  
"I did nothing to provoke her behavior."  
"Bullshit.", Bruce argues.  
"What say you, brother? Her abilities. Do they remain sound?"  
"Her intuition is strong. I believe her Empathic powers have returned."

The last few hours of work was living Hell. I could not focus worth shit. I sat and stared at my iPad, reliving the moment the silver-haired man and I shared eyes for one other. Once again, a warmth fills my chest and edges out to my arms and legs, and out of nowhere, I break down in tears. Strangely, every rhesus monkey stops their activity, swings up on ropes to my level, and watch me cry. They can't hear me, but they most certainly can feel my anguish. The emotions I experienced today is too much for my mind to comprehend, and out of response to the commotion, my brain shuts down to protect itself. I lay the iPad down on my crossed legs and with elbows on my knees, I rest my face into the palms of my hands. Thankfully, Rose and John are no where in sight. The only witnesses to my emotional agony are the six monkeys, calmly holding to ropes and watching me cry.

Pal Hal noticed the bags under my eyes and my dismal demeanor, for I cried for a near hour on the observation deck. Thankfully, Rose and John sat in meetings all afternoon. To avoid Jose, I left the building fifteen minutes early. Hal says nothing, allowing my peace, but sends a message to Rose soon after I exit the car: 'Jules appears very sad and has bags under her eyes. Was she crying at work?'

At home, I sit in my favorite chair inside the greenhouse and with my hot green tea in hand, I reflect back to the event. The way the man locked eyes with me was indeed creepy. It was as if he was touching me with his emotions. I skip dinner and hit the sack early, only to awake in tears once more. I call Rose and get her voicemail: 'Hey Rose. It's Jules. I'm under the weather today and staying home. I've got my laptop with me, so let me know if there's any more cleaning up you need on the charts for rhesus four thru six. I'll work on the abstract over the weekend. Thanks.'

The next week is a short one, thanks to the annual turkey holiday. Wednesday was a big deal, for our first phase of behavioral monitoring was presented to a panel full of top rankers. Both John and Rose sat and sold our work, using pretty colored graphs and a beautiful slide presentation on PowerPoint. My diligent observations and fine data collecting proved worthy, noting we have two good pairs with potential for telecommunication and telekinesis. The entire panel gave DESS a green light for Phase Two. Rose was so fucking thrilled, I watched her do a jig upon her return and shake my hand in excess.  
"We did it, Jules! We have the green light for Phase Two!"  
Both Rose and John leave at 3:30pm, and I stick around until 4:30pm to finish up on a few tasks. Jose walks up to my desk and rudely sits on my desk to my right.  
"Going anywhere for Thanksgiving?"  
The last time we spoke alone with personal questions flying around was weeks ago, and it did not end well. I continue to type as I answer.  
"Yeah."  
He sits quietly, watching me type away. "Liar.", he says shrewdly.  
I push my chair back hard to roll away from my desk, just to get a good view of him.  
"Don't get pissy at me. I'm just asking a question. Out of empathy.", he smiles with his whites peering thru his open lips.  
"Empathy? For what purpose? Please. Don't feel sorry for me. I cope quite well alone.", rolling back to my desk.  
"I see that. It's going to be a looooong weekend alone, though. Maybe you SHOULD share it with someone."  
"What. With you?", shooting him the look.  
"No. I'm a dedicated, married man. I'm talking about Dr. Banner."  
I return back to my laptop and scan the Excel sheet, searching the columns to where I left off. He pushes the top of my laptop down to close it over my hands. I stare at my computer and feel a flame of anger build within. How DARE he!  
"May I recommend an evening at a local bar, say, a beer with Dr. Banner? Just tell me what bar, day, time, and it's done."  
I lower my head and shake gently, side to side in disbelief, still looking at the top of my computer.  
"I'm serious. Bar, day, time, and it's done."  
"Fine. There's a bar just a block from my place. Dilly's. Tomorrow at 8pm. They're open 365.", I say quickly and open the lid to my laptop, adjusting it in place.  
"Thanksgiving night? What if he has family to attend to?"  
"Tough shit. I'll just enjoy a beer alone."  
"So cold.", Jose responds under his breath and leaves to the staging area.  
His words chill me, for he is right. That was cold, but it felt right. I suppose it was my innards hoping this would lead to a failed match up. Jose passes the info along to Bruce, and he's more than available tomorrow night.

I walk into Dilly's at a quarter to eight. I've never been in the bar, but know it's pretty popular with the Loyolla College kids. I move to the back and spot an empty booth, but first things first, I hit the bartender. Just as the young chap approaches, Dr. Banner stands to my right and sets down a bottle upon the counter.  
"No need. Happy Thanksgiving."  
I smile, bashfully, and hold the bottle into my left hand. I look at him and find his eyes twinkling in delight, the corner of his thin lips pulled back in a smile, and a slight bounce from his heel tells me he is just as nervous as I am.  
"Thank you. Sorry, I didn't see you."  
"My pleasure. Say, I got a table. Or, if you want to sit here instead ...".  
"Let's sit at the table.", for I prefer some privacy.  
He waits to sit until I do, and we both take a sip of our beer. I fidget with the paper label, and he looks at the bottle at different angles. I don't know WHAT to say, so I remain quiet.  
"You live close?", he asks.  
"Yes. A block away."  
"Oh. An easy commute. Heh."  
"Yeah." I take another sip.  
"Are you from Chicago or a transplant?"  
"From here.", I smile and take another sip.  
"So am I."  
I can sense his nervousness. It feels like fire against my skin, making me break out into a light sweat upon the center of my back. I wrap both hands around my cold beer with hopes of suppressing the inner heat.  
"How was your dinner? Did you go out of town or anything?", he asks kindly, thoughtfully.  
"I stayed home. I have no family, here. I just made some rice and made a stir fry out of my garden veggies."  
"I didn't go anywhere, either. I had a bowl of cereal."  
I chuckle at his words, for I find it adorable we both shared the holiday alone with a non-traditional meal.  
"Although your dinner sounds much more appetizing. Me? Nah. Apple Jacks."  
"I would've preferred Cinnamon Toast Crunch, but I don't care for milk.", I smile hard at my half empty bottle.  
He laughs, and I join in. Discussing cereal is our ice breaker, and I welcome our time together. The heat dissipates, and a comfort nudges the outside of my arms. I can see myself befriending Bruce. Jose was right. I do find him cute. He's handsome, funny, and gentle.  
"You have a garden? This time of year?", he asks with great curiosity.  
"I have a heated greenhouse."  
"Really? I don't know anyone in the city that has one of those! Do you grow a lot of vegetables?"  
Too many questions. I'm not used to answering so many personal questions. "A good variety, yes."  
I take a quick sip, feeling a bit agitated from all the damn questions. Peeling the label off the bottle, I release a quiet sigh. I'm no longer smiling, and he gets it. He remembers how secretive I was on our first date about my personal information, let alone my past. He begins to talk about himself, what he does at BlackOps-D, and some of his personal projects at home. I watch his animated self, hands moving about and his eyes smiling all the while he speaks to me. I sit with my right cheek rested upon my right fist and take it all in. He's an interesting character with plenty to talk about, but I just can't get into it. Not today. I still haven't recovered from last Thursday afternoon's stare down with the silver-haired man. I begin to stare at his light blue buttoned shirt and watch his chest move with matching breaths of air to his voice. My eyes found a happy spot, allowing my brain to flow away from his smacking lips.  
"Jules?"  
I don't know how long he spoke of his life, as I drifted in my euphoric world. When I heard my name, my mind snapped back like a rubber band.  
"What?", I say into his eyes.  
"Never mind.", he smiles away, looking at his empty bottle.  
"I think I said enough about my boring life."  
"Boring? Please. Live in my shoes, and you'll find your life full of happy and nothing to be sorry for."  
I'm not sure where that came from, but I feel it was my way to end our get together. Especially when his expression changes from a happy smile to a _'what do you mean?'_. I really don't feel like answering any more questions. I'm done. I scoot out of the booth and stand aside the table.  
"Thank you for the beer. I'm going to head back, if you don't mind."  
I share a sincere smile and look down to the table. He quickly scoots out of the booth.  
"Oh, sure. Yeah, no problem."  
"It was a pleasure talking with you, Dr. Banner. Good night.", and I walk away. _'So cold ...I'm so cold ...so scared.'_  
"Would you like me to walk you home?", he speaks up.  
I keep walking to the door and leave. I can't turn around. I can't let him see me crying. As soon as exit, I run like hell down the sidewalk and a block down to my building. Panic stricken, I fumble with my keys, cursing loudly to grasp it correctly for my hands are shaking terribly.  
"God! C'mon!"  
Bruce stood outside the bar and saw me in front of the building, and then I was gone. He was surprised how quickly I reached my building and suspected I ran. With a heavy heart, he turns to the left and heads back to his car. The chemistry was no where near what we shared in the past, and it saddens him. Before starting the car, he sends a text message to Jose: 'You were wrong. Zero out of five stars. Thanks anyway.'

I laid wide awake in bed, feeling guilt for my behavior.  
"Why am I so fearful to open up? What's WRONG with me?!"  
All weekend long, I went to bed in tears over my behavior on Thanksgiving night. I was so cold to Bruce and now I'm paying the price. No matter how tight I wrap myself into my comforter, my body continues to shiver as I cry myself to sleep.

A month passes and the seven people I saw that day have not returned during my lunch hour. The more days that pass and I do not see them, the more suspicious I become. There is a conditional code developed just for me at BlackOps-D. My current condition is known as "Delta", which means "all clear". The next condition is "Charlie", which is like an advisory of possible doom. Next is condition "Bravo", which is an alert of pending doom. What you don't want is condition "Alpha", which is a warning of imminent doom. What I experienced at home tonight after work raised the level to "Charlie".

It's Monday, December 23rd. Rose and John both took the day off to make it a five day weekend. Upon my arrival, I find a note on my desk from Jose: 'Hey. I've been trying to get together with you to see how your date went about a month ago, but Rose is always around. I heard it didn't go well. Of all my years playing matchmaker, I have never been wrong. Clearly, I read you wrong. Sorry it didn't work out.' I leave work at 3pm, just to avoid Jose.

I wave goodbye to Pal Hal, as he drove away from my building. I grab a single junk mailer out of my mailbox from the local cable service and take it with me up the stairs, tossing it into the kitchen garbage. I undress and put on my favorite gray cut-off sweats above the knees and a green t-shirt. A cup of hot green tea sits in my hands as I proceed out the sliding door and enter my greenhouse. I walk around and examine the plants, pick and eat several cherry tomatoes, and pull dead leaves from a variety of plants. In nearly every window of the building across the street holds twinkling colored lights or a view of a Christmas tree. I don't celebrate the holiday. Why bother? I answer to no God and I have no one to exchange gifts with anyway. Sitting on top of the six story building across the street was a raven. It sat and watched me walk thru the frosted windows of my greenhouse. I spent a good hour, tending and relaxing in my chair with my delicious tea. I notice the watering can was getting a little green on the inside.  
"Geez, did I let you go. Scrub a dub dub for you today."  
Just as I opened the greenhouse door to leave, a very large black bird flies to my rooftop. A loud fluttering to my left causes me to stop in surprise, as I observe the bird slowly walk up to me. With a loud 'caw caw', it nods its head up and down several times. _'That's strange.', I thought. 'A raven? This far north in winter?'_ I thought ravens migrated South for the winter. But then again, Canada geese don't all migrate South and you can find them on every golf course or where there's open, unfrozen water, and plenty of green grass to eat. The raven hops several feet toward me, bobbing its head up and down twice and said what sounded like "WOEKEY". Once more, it bobs its head up and down and says "WOEKEY". I laugh at the sight of a wild bird speaking to me.  
"Hey there! Shouldn't you be down South?"  
WOEKEY. WOEKEY.  
"Woekey?", I chuckle.  
The raven nods its head again, up and down. WOEKEY.  
"Okay? Woekey it is!"  
The bird slowly takes a few steps forward and looks up at me with its head tilted to the right.  
"You hungry? I believe I have something to share.", tickled pink to have a wild animal visiting me on Christmas Eve.  
I walk into my apartment and open the fridge door. I left the sliding glass door open, and the raven enters nonchalantly and without fear. Startled by its behavior, I narrow my eyes and giggle. This is no wild bird. There's just no way. I place a small white plate with two slices of deli turkey meat upon the floor, and the raven hops over to examine it. It looks at me, gobbles the two slices down, and caws.  
"More? No problem."  
I fed the quirky bird a total of five slices of deli turkey meat and I set down a bowl of water. The raven drinks several times, shares a quick look into my eyes, and then casually walks out the open door. A flutter ensues and Woekey takes off in flight.  
"Wait a second! Woekey!", I yell.

Alone. Again. The glass door slides shut with my shoulders down low in a sad shrug.


	8. The Calm Before The Storm - Part Two

Christmas Day. A cold breeze flows across the rooftop, and I stand at the edge to view the children running about on the sidewalks to show off their new toys and gear. With my hot green tea in hand, I take several small sips and look down the block to view Dilly’s. Bruce comes to mind …then Jose. I contemplate on asking Bruce to meet me. Still embarrassed by my behavior from our first meeting, concerns arise to a possible second failure on my part.   
“Fuck it!”   
I quickly walk back inside, grab my cell phone, and send Jose a quick text: ‘What is Dr. Banner’s cell number?’ Jose didn’t waste any time and responded a minute later. He was going to send a quick text to give Bruce a heads up, but holds back.   
“Merry Christmas, Dr. Banner.”, he says quietly at his phone with a large grin.   
‘This is Jules. Jose gave me your number. Would you like to meet at Dilly’s tonight? Say, 6pm?’ I know they’re open, for I watched four people enter the bar in a festive mood. I ponder over my decision to reach out to a man whom I’ve only met twice, yet deep within the center of my neural tissue rests a sleeping giant who know better. The hippocampus, restrained by the All-Father’s powerful empire, quietly rumbles in a deep slumber. Every familiar impression that’s absorbed into the frontal lobe nudges the giant, and much like a dormant volcanic, it’s bound to awake once more.  
Bruce is sitting alone in his den, staring at my text. A flood of emotions overtake him, drowning his thoughts, leaving him speechless and unresponsive. He never expected anything more from me and believed our relationship was dead in the water. The text clearly proved him wrong. He responds: ‘I’d love to. 6pm.’   
  
The traffic is light and most are on foot, walking in their new digs and taking their Christmas puppies out for their first potty run. I notice Dilly’s is rowdier than usual with music easily heard pumping out of the open door. I still have an hour to kill before Bruce and I meet, and I’m already regretting my decision. I shake my hands and walk back inside, nervous …so nervous I may fuck this up again. Unbeknown to me, Woekey lands on the ledge, hops down, and follows me inside. Casually, the bird moves toward my bed and stands directly behind me, watching all the while as I wash my dishes in the sink.   
WOE KEE! WOE KEY!   
I jump and turn to see the raven at the base of my bed, strutting up to me like hot shit.   
“Jeez! You scared the crap out of me! My God. Aren’t you the bold one.”  
I remove half a bagel out of its bag and two thin maple turkey slices from the fridge, setting them down on the floor. The raven exhibits no signs of fear, eating heartily from the plate. Clearly, this bird was hand reared. Or, maybe the bird escaped from a zoo. I tear off a small dime sized piece of bagel and toss it onto the floor. It takes a few steps forward, picks it up with its beak, and proceeds to swallow it whole. To watch the raven behave more like a pet is very comforting. I smile and chuckle, watching this odd creature hobble around my apartment.   
“I have a date tonight with a cutie. I can’t miss this one. You see? I kinda screwed up on my last date.” I toss another small piece of bagel, followed with a considerable sigh. “I was cold to him, Woekey. I need to make it right this time.”   
The raven looks at me, tilts its head to the right, and hops to the open sliding door. I lean my back against the kitchen counter with arms crossed, watching the raven move about and exit so soon.  
“Hey, now. I still have forty minutes before I have to leave. You don’t have to go just yet.”   
As I walk out the door and take a step onto the rooftop, the raven makes a running start and takes off in flight. With grace, it makes a right turn and disappears behind the front of my building. I run to the wall to follow with my eyes, searching the air all over to find no sign of the bird. I look down the street and examine the rooftops of buildings all around. Nothing. “How odd!” I shrug my shoulders, turn around, and head back inside.  
  
Just outside the city of Ida, Loki lays upon his back with arms crossed behind his head upon the soft blue-green grass of the Moraines. The corners of his lips reach far to his ears, as he grins heavily to his success to walk among Jules on Midgard. His idea to appear as a raven, unnoticed to both Heimdall or his Fathers eyes and ears, brings him to rejoice with arms stretched out and hands into fists. He lets out a high pitched cry to the sleeping stars above. With his arms back behind his head once more, he thinks over her statement of having a date.   
“Not on my watch.”, Loki growls, grabbing the ground and breaking the blades of green by the fistfuls. “She must remain celibate. I cannot allow her to make relations with a mortal, for it will only complicate my mission.”   
His Father has him working diligently in the Foundry, for the King has high hopes his son will manage Asgard’s main money maker. Loki’s sorcery had proven strong, when a trial run to blend magic with metal created a fantastic sword. It was tested and found weak by poor cooling methods of hot metal, yet found strong to heal the handler. Working full time meant less free time for Loki’s mischief. An intentional act by Father, but with a great payout. Loki gripes over the notion his lunch hour is near its end and makes a mental note to check on Jules after dinner.   
  
“Holy shit, this place is packed!!”  
I hand my ID to the doorman and walk into a sardine can. I can’t believe it. It’s Christmas Night, and the bar is full of life! All these yuppie kids are probably burning cash from their Mommy’s and Daddy’s found in their stocking. My eyes scan the scene with intensity, madly searching for Bruce. Too many bodies occupy a single space, bringing worry he never stepped inside. It wasn’t until I pushed alongside the bar, half way into the social soup, a strong hand grips my right bicep.   
“Jules!”, Bruce shouts, smiling like a fishermen with a big catch in hand.  
“Oh my God! I’m so sorry! I didn’t know this place was so popular on Christmas Day!”, I yell over the many voices and Modest Mouse hovering us.   
He hands me a bottle and I smile with my teeth, for I’m giddy as fuck.

“Thanks for the invite! I was home alone and rather bored!”, he yells.   
“You don’t spend time with your family on Christmas?”, I holler.   
“I have no family. Just friends, but they have families.”, he hollers back, taking a long drink from his bottle.   
He, too, lives alone? No family to speak of? What are the odds?? I take a swig to soften the back of my throat. The air is thick of pheromones and having to yell in conversation is drying me. I don’t typically drink beer, but the festive energy drives me to finish my bottle early. As I rest the dead amber glass upon the counter, he waves to the Bartender and points two fingers at my bottle. I smile hard, when he returns his eyes to me for approval. I rarely drink beer. Therefore, three bottles of poison is settling quite well. As my emotional Pandora box opens and delivers what Bruce wants, I begin to talk about my job and the single life I carry. With a tight crowd around us, our bodies remain within inches of each other. Bruce is not that much taller than I. I’ll take a guess he’s four inches more than myself. Several times I felt his left fingers brush up against my hip, and with each contact I wished he was grabbing me instead. A number of times our bodies forcefully touched, pressed together by patrons pushing forward to place their drink orders. As the chaos continues to deliver around us, I don’t want to leave. The unintentional touching is turning me on terribly. Such guilty pleasures! After my third bottle, I decline any more offers. I submit to the poison in my veins, allowing it to speak for me.   
“You want to hang out at my place?”  
“Sure!”, he exclaims.  
Oh, does he ever.   
  
Loki fidgets at dinner, anxious to return to his room for the day. Quickly, he forces his meal down his throat and follows each large bite with mead.  
“Brother! You eat like a desperate man! This is not yourself.”   
Loki shares a smile thru his feedings and says no more.   
“Oh? That is the look of a woman who’s captured your eyes! Do tell us. Who is this lucky woman whom awaits you?”  
Loki takes the beige napkin and swipes the smile of his red lips.  
“Thor. Your mind thrives among women, and all you think of is pussy. You assume too much in my expression. I used a great deal of magic at work, which famished me, and I look forward to my pillow.”  
Hogun and Volstagg burst into laughter.  
“Nothing wrong with a mind full of pussy.”, says Thor with shoulders shrugged.  
Sif rolls her eyes and Fandral chuckles lightly, for he can relate all too well.   
  
I toss my key onto the small corner table and Bruce closes the door behind me.  
“Hot tea? I’m making some hot tea.”, I mumble, clearly drunk off my ass.  
“No thank you.”   
I stand in front of the stove and stare at the blue flames under the yellow kettle, zoning out completely.  
“You alright?”, he asks softly.   
“I’m a cheap date, Bruce. I rarely drink any liquor. Three beers …I think I hit my limit.”, I say in between my cute girly chuckles.   
He joins me, sharing a light laugh. His masculine tone grips my heart, forcing out a whisper of a gasp and making me swallow hard. _‘I invited him into my apartment! I fucking invited him into my apartment?!’_ , my mind screams in joy. The kettle also begins to scream and I kill it, pouring the hot clear liquid into my green cup. With it too hot to drink, I turn and glance at Bruce’s face. His warm brown eyes touch me in such a way, I immediately blush.  
“So. Do you have the day off tomorrow?”, he asks.   
“Actually, I do. And no. I don’t participate in the after X-mas sale hunts.”, I joke.   
“By the look of your place, I’m beginning to think you don’t shop at all.”, he fires back in laughter.   
I force a smile and return my eyes to my cup. Living a simple life, all alone, is not funny. It’s downright sad.  
“You’re right. I don’t.”, I respond quietly, pulling the new tea bag out of my cup. “I don’t understand the need for material things. I don’t own a TV and no computer, other than my work laptop. I swear. I must be the dullest person on the block. It’s no wonder I live alone with no friends to speak of. Not a soul, Bruce. It’s just me, my greenhouse plants, and work.”  
“I don’t find you dull at all. Your simple life is, actually, a blessing. I own a lot of shit, and what do they do? They just sit there and collect dust. Books, DVD’s, you name it.”   
I exhale a sarcastic puff of air and force a smirk, staring at the motionless dark water within my cup.   
“I’d like to be your friend, if you allow it.”  
Both my hands form into fists, as a strong drive of anxiety pushes out against my skin, and each breath I take is a struggle. He recognizes my tense body from the day we first shared a kiss in the aviary. He desperately wants to touch me, but decides against it. _‘Don’t rush her. Go easy. You got this.’_ , he thinks to himself. Instead, he takes a seat at the end of my bed. With the increased distance between us, my anxiety take a nosedive as the weight of uncertainty escapes me. I sip my tea and smile shyly his way, taking notice to the finer details of his body. His top two buttons of his dark purple collared shirt is undone, exposing the white T-shirt underneath. He’s not skinny but average, and his tight ass I brushed a few times at the bar tells me he’s fit. Such strong hands …fingers crossed and resting upon his legs, awaiting to inspect my loneliness. He’s perfect in my eyes and I desperately want the Doctor to examine me fully. I want to hear that I’m normal. I’m desperate to end my loneliness. Deep within, I feel I’ve been alone for a great deal of time. I set the cup down and take a seat next to him. With my hands clasped together and rested upon my legs, I begin to dread over the decision to sit so close.  
“I feel as if I’ve been given a bad deal at the poker table of life. I don’t understand why I live this way.”, I spill forth.  
“You control the outcome. Don’t let a bad hand spoil the fun out of life. Just …throw the cards back at the Dealer’s face and ask for another.”   
I laugh and nervously finger press the cotton of my yellow and orange knee-high dress. It was his confident right hand, nudging gently at my left cheek, which caused me to shake. Embarrassed at my response, I turn my head away.  
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.”, he whispers, desperate to make it right.   
I turn back in a hard blush and stare at his left hand resting upon his legs.  
“I, ah. It’s been …it’s been along time since anyone’s touched me. That way. I …”.   
My body shivers, yet I don’t even notice. My mind is preoccupied by his last contact, and Bruce takes it one step at a time.  
“I honestly can relate. I’ve been single for eight years. The last time I kissed a girl? Eight years ago. And it’s not that I want to live alone? I just can’t relate to most people. My best friend is always trying to hook me up. I’ve had a few dinners, but it never pans out.”   
With that said, I raise my watery eyes to his browns and just lose it in tears. He immediately holds me, and I grab his shirt at chest level, grabbing on to dear life. Dark purple splotches form around my face, as his shirt absorbs my cries. I bawl like a child alone at the playground, unwanted by her peers to play along. I never ever cried, when bullied by other children to be left alone and out of the loop of friendships. Today, my tears finally caught up with me. His gentle brush strokes to the back of my head, petting my long brunette-dyed hair, coaxes me to press my head into his chest. I spread open my fingers and hold the side of his ribs, feeling the muscular texture of his body. His mouth presses against the top of my head and holds in position, allowing the heat from the exhales of his nostrils to warm me further. I sense a bead of perspiration tickle the back of my neck, bringing me to shut my eyes and to relax my delicate mind. I allow him to hold me. To comfort me. Silently, we embrace. So peaceful …so perfect. Eventually, I pull my wits together and decide to allow myself to enter his world. I know he wants to enter mine, for he already made an attempt. I get up and turn the lights off. Bruce takes this as a sign and his heart flops like a fish out of water, taking a few deep breaths and smiling hard as I return to him. The apartment is dead silent, minus our beating hearts and heavy exhales. He holds my face with both hands, moves in to kiss me, and my fingers rest gently upon his wrists.  
  
Loki takes a seat in his study, closes his eyes, and delivers the magic from his lips. His soul swiftly moves to Midgard and takes shape of the black raven I have befriended and call Woekey. He circles above my building, taking notice the light turning off within my apartment. With a swoop to my rooftop and a hobble to my glass sliding door, his black beady eyes widen at the sight of Dr. Banner and I kissing.  
”Of all the mortals within this city, she choose this man?!”, he seethes.   
  
Our first kiss is feverish, tongues pressing hard, fucking in and out, and I savor his saliva like my favorite food.  
 _‘Christ, this is wonderful! He’s wonderful!.’_   
His right hand presses the back of my head, grabbing a fistful of my hairs, and I respond in a heavy moan and release from his mouth with a slight head tilt. His kisses move across my left cheek, gently bites my earlobe, and I turn my head to the right with gentle sighs of approval. He nudges his lips against the thin, soft skin of my inner neck, bringing me to madly search for his buttons. I undo the forth button, only to loose my moment of heat by the heavy tapping of glass. We both stop, and Bruce eyes a large black bird tapping the door.  
“There’s a large black bird at your door? What the hell?”   
I excitedly turn around and shout, “Woekey!” I run to the door and open it.   
“Woekey??”, Bruce asks in both confusion and great disappointment.   
“Hey, Buddy! What are you doing back? Let me see …”, opening the fridge and allowing the bird to walk in.   
Bruce sits baffled by the sight of a wild bird waltzing inside my place, watching me intensely as I pull out the bag of turkey meat.  
“There you go. Extra helpings today. Call it a Christmas feast!”, I joyfully say aloud. “Your timing is really terrible, you know that? I should’ve ignored you, but how could I?”   
_‘Yes. Throw that bird out!’_ , Bruce says within. “What’s with the crow?”   
“Raven, actually. He just showed up a month ago, cawing ‘Woekey’ at me. He stops by now and then.”  
“Did you say Woekey?”  
“That’s right. C’mon, Woekey. Say your name.”   
CAW!   
“No. Your name.”, I giggle.  
CAW!  
I shrug my shoulders at Bruce. He watches the bird carefully, noting the name is too similar to Loki. After the bird consumes its meal, I set down a bowl of water and it takes several swallows. I move my hands to shoo the bird out, which Woekey unwillingly hops forth, and I close the door. I return to Bruce, watch him smile as I sit back next to him, and move my open hands against his chest and up his shoulders. He responds with a low growl and proceeds to kiss my lips in gentle nudges. The raven taps the glass once more, bringing Bruce’s narrowed eyes to the bird and kissing me still. Loki wasn’t having it and stares Bruce down. Bruce continues to share a dirty glare at the black bird, kissing my right ear and moving into my neck. Loki takes Bruce’s direct look as a threat, angering him further. He takes off in flight.   
“About time.”, he whispers.   
“What?”, I exhale, feeling for the buttons of his shirt once more.   
“Nothing.”, he murmurs upon the skin of my neck.   
CRASH!!!   
What sounds like glass and metal busting from my greenhouse jumps me out of bed.   
“Oh my God!”, I yell.   
Horrified my beloved greenhouse collapsed, I run for the door. Bruce heard nothing. Shocked by my behavior, he runs after me and enters the greenhouse. To my astonishment, nothing is broken. Not a single panel.   
“I …I don’t understand! It sounded like it came from my greenhouse!”   
“WHAT came from your greenhouse?!”, he asks loudly.   
“Didn’t you hear the glass? The …the metal?! It was horrible!”, hands pressed against my face.   
Bruce quickly moves outside, approaches the wall, and looks down at the street. Maybe there was an accident? A break-in? Nothing appears out of the ordinary. I close the greenhouse door and watch him walk back to me.   
“Anything?”, I ask.  
“No.”, he says, looking around one last time before closing the sliding door.   
I pick up my cup and take a big swallow of my tea, looking back out the sliding glass door. That sound was eerily familiar. I take another swallow, staring at the greenhouse with serious concerns to my wellbeing. Either the alcohol is playing games or I’m loosing my mind.  
“Didn’t you hear it?”, I ask.  
“No. What was it you heard?”  
“Glass. Metal. Breaking.”, I mumble.   
I look into my cup, rub the lip hard with my right thumb, and fret. How could he NOT have heard the horrible noise? Bruce stands behind me and brushes the hairs away from my neck, moving in to plant a warm kiss upon my right nape, yet I want none of it. My mood had turned sour, when no explanation came forth and Bruce questioned my experience. The sound of my greenhouse tearing apart tore my mind away from our delicate moment. Distraught, I take a step forward, ending his attempt to rekindle the bond. I shake my head and stare into my cup.  
“I’m sorry. I …I think I had too many beers. I ah …”.   
Disappointed, he blames our spoiled moment on the raven. His gut tells him Loki IS the bird and he’s playing with magic. The name resembles too much of his own, the timing of disrupting our bond with a visit, and then what I believed was the greenhouse breaking apart is too coincidental.   
“I really have my reservations on that black bird. I think you need to leave it alone.”   
“Why?”, I turn to ask, frowning.  
“Just keep it to yourself. Don’t tell anyone at work. Okay? Trust me on this.”, he says in a serious tone.   
It’s bad enough my mood soured after hearing the crash. Now I feel even worse. I truly enjoy Woekey’s visits, for it dispels my loneliness. How dare this man tell me NOT to spend time with it! And here I believed I found someone I could relate to. How wrong I was …I never should have invited him into my life.  
“I …I think you should leave.”, swallowing my sadness and turning away once more to peer at the greenhouse.   
“Okay. Um. I enjoyed our time together.”, he says with a twitch in his sexy low voice, bringing me to smile and nod in agreement. “Maybe we can meet again? Or something?”, he asks, desperate for approval.   
“Maybe.”, I whisper, looking into my cup and keeping my eyes away.  
I hear the door open.   
“Goodnight, Jules.”, and he closes the door.   
With a lean into the glass door, I continue to stare at my greenhouse, still bewildered by the experience. My precious moments with Bruce no longer mattered. Understanding what made the impact of breaking glass and metal is my priority now.   
“I’ve heard that sound before. I know I have.”


	9. The Calm Before The Storm - Part Three

Just three days shy of the new year, I return to work feeling numb. I wear a _'I don't give a shit'_ attitude upon my sleeve. Anger, disappointment, and sadness meld into one massive blob inside my chest. I feel congested and heavily introverted. If I could end the last few days of the year under the comforter of my cold bed, I would.  
I was watching the rhesus monkeys consume their Monday morning meal, noting that #4 was behaving timid. I never seen #4 behave this way. #4 was always eager to grab a banana slice and a piece of monkey chow. Not today. It just wandered around behind #2 and #5, pacing back and forth on all fours.  
"How odd."  
"What's that?", asks Rose.  
"Number four."  
I walk over to my desk and recheck the log sheet from Jose. Nothing's for #4, which meant this behavior is entirely new. I look up at Rose, sitting at her desk.  
"He's not approaching the food. I've never seen him behave this way around #2 and #5."  
"I will make a note to have Jose double-check him tonight.", she shares. "Speaking of odd. You're gonna find this crazy."  
"Oh, do tell. I love a crazy story.", Rose says aloud, putting her iPad down.  
"There's a raven which makes random visits to my apartment. I was on my way out of my greenhouse a month ago, when it approached me. As in flying to my roof and walking right up to me with absolutely no fear. And it's vocalizing 'Woekey. Woekey.'."  
"Really! Is the bird still around?"  
"It makes random visits. But how weird is that! Which reminds me to check the blogs and missing animals database. I'm sure it's hand-reared."  
"What makes you think it was?"  
"The bird isn't afraid of me. I'm pretty sure ravens are migratory. If so, it's quite odd to see one here, this time of year. That's why I believe it was hand-reared. Probably an escapee."  
I turn around and walk back to continue my observations with the monkeys. Meanwhile, Rose picks up her Blackberry and sends a message to someone.

Condition Charley. That's right. I went from Delta to Charley, thanks to my big mouth. All it took was for Rose to hear me say "A raven ...visits ...named Woekey". I never suspected anything different from my co-workers or from Rose, but my colleagues were instructed to advise Rose of any unusual behaviors on my part. As of today, two Security Guards begin watching the monitors from existing cameras within DESS as a safety precaution.

Bruce shared our night with Tony, as well as the damned raven whom spoiled our moment.  
"Word from the underground? Her monitor status is now Charley."  
"Why?", Bruce asks in surprise.  
"This bird? A raven, right? Woekey. Loki. The name's too identical. I suspect that's the culprit.", Tony says with poise, cutting a piece of succulent pork chop away to indulge.  
"And I told her to keep the bird to herself. Damn it!", distraught I didn't take him seriously.  
"So. What's your New Year Eve plans?", Tony says to change the subject.  
"Meh. Staying home.", pouting over his medium well porterhouse steak.  
"Let's do something. At your place, since you clearly don't want to go anywhere. You, me, Laura, and Jules!"  
Bruce smiles, then chuckles at his best friend's idea.  
"I don't know. I'm beginning to think she and I are done. It's just not the same."  
"Send her a text. Invite her over.", says an eager Tony, pointing the empty fork at Bruce. "I'm willing to bet if you send her an invite, she'll respond with a 'hell yeah'."  
Bruce shakes his head, almost laughing, and scrolls his texts to find my last message. He sends the following: 'I'm having a few friends over at my place on New Years Eve. Would you like to join us?' 

My cell beeps, and I swear my heart went from zero to a hundred and twenty beats per minute in five seconds flat! His invitation brings forth a tremendous joy, for our last night together didn't end well. I honestly didn't expect to hear from him again. I quickly respond: 'I'd love to! Call me?'

Bruce reads my message loudly and dances in his chair.  
"You're welcome, my friend.", says Tony, smirking.

I never wear any make-up, but it's New Years Eve and Bruce is on his way to pick me up. I want to look nice and girly for a change. The fact he's asking me to ring in the New Year with him is a big fucking deal. To come to think of it, I can't remember having done so with anyone in years past. This would be our third meeting, or date, and I reflect on how poorly the last two ended. I find Bruce terribly attractive, both physically and mentally. I truly want to befriend him, yet deep inside a need to fight off my emotions festers ... _'why must I remain distant?'_  
"Please don't let this be strike three.", I pray.  
I glide the bubble gum pink lip gloss over my lips, puckering a few times to ensure I got it right. I slide it into my purse and brush my hair for the fifth time. A beep sounds from my cell. It's a text from Bruce. 'I'm here.' I quickly straighten my a-line red dress. Sleeveless and just above my knees, it's perfect for the occasion. Bruce's parked out front in his royal blue BMW. "Wow.", I blurt with a strong smile. "Fancy ride." As I open the door, I catch his eyes checking out my body and smiles generously.  
"Hey!", he says.  
"Wow. Is this yours?", I ask. A stupid question, yes. But when you're as nervous as I am, stupid shit sometimes fly out of my mouth.  
"Sure is! You like it?"  
"Comfy. Luxurious. Too rich for my taste.", I chuckle.  
"I have very little tolerance for traffic. Anger issues. So, I bought a car with extra comforts. I can access the internet or watch movies. While everyone else stresses and fuss, crawling at a snail's pace or sits idle, I relax."  
"You don't strike me as a road rager."  
Bruce smiles.  
As we pull into his gated concrete driveway, I look out the passenger window to inspect the tall three story home. Beige stone with large windows scream 'I'm expensive!'.  
 _'Geezus Christ! This guy lives like a King! Do Physicists make that much money?'_  
As I watch the mouth of the garage door close behind us in the side view mirror, a feeling of being consumed into his lair and a sudden sense of entrapment overtakes me. There's no turning back now.  
"Stay there.", he says with a dash of excitement.  
I watch him encircle the front of his car and approach my door, opens it, and offers his left hand.  
"Oh, thank you!", having to turn my face away due to the hard blush.  
He keeps his grip upon my right fingers, as he walks ahead and leads me up the spiral iron staircase. We exit upon the first floor and I gasp to the lofty open kitchen. Dark gray marbled countertops, handblown red sconce lights hanging over the breakfast bar and chef island, all stainless steel appliances ...the amount of money sitting in this room alone blows me away. Bruce stands amused to my facial expression. Like a kid in a candy store, I walk around and feel the smooth marble and examine the fine details of his cabinetry. I look out the window to see the gated front yard below.  
"Would you like a tour?"  
"Oh, would I! Please!", I say enthusiastically.  
The living room sits on the opposite side of the first floor. A large screen TV's mounted on the brick wall, a curio cabinet full of odd stones and miniature tin robots sits in the corner, a black and gray Mona Modular Sectional couch rests center of the room, along with a black glass coffee table. We head up the spiral stairs to the second floor and to my left is his bedroom, ahead is the master bath, and to my right is a lounge room.  
"That's my man cave.", he snickers.  
I walk in the room to find an entire wall covered in custom-built cherry wood bookcase, completely stocked with books, DVD's, and other oddities. A flat screen TV is nestled in the middle of the madness. A variety of contemporary paintings hang on the opposite wall, and a large brown leather sofa sits in the middle of the room.  
"Wow.", I gasp.  
"C'mon. I'll show you my workspace."  
We head up to the third floor, and it is completely open-air. A number of large work tables are stationed in no particular pattern, all holding a variety of metal boxes, wiring, and gadgets a plenty. Several metal shelving units store his tools, and I count at least four computers and monitors.  
"This is where I spend most of my time. I don't even need the other two floors. I could put in a kitchenette, full bath, and a bed on this floor alone and still live comfortably."  
I laugh at his statement and he joins me.  
"You certainly have a lot of toys.", I chuckle.  
"Oh. This is just a portion of what I own. The other half is over at Tony's. He's got a larger pad for my big toys. We do a lot of contract work together."  
"Oh. I see.", smiling politely.  
"Anyway. Oh! The rooftop."  
The entire rooftop's secured with a four-foot metal fence and completely usable. An odd straw tiki bar sits to my left.  
"Oh my gosh. A tiki bar?"  
"It was a dare. Tony's idea. It gets a lot of laughs."  
"I'd say!", laughing at the oddity.  
Lounge chairs and a couple of round tables sit upon the roof.  
"You have so much usable space here.", I say with too much enthusiasm.  
"Let me guess. I should put in a greenhouse?"  
I share a startled look, and he laughs at my expression.  
"I can't keep a houseplant alive for more than a week. Believe me. I've tried."  
I shy away, hands down and pressed flat against the womb of my red dress. His eyes examines my body language and holds back on making a move.  
"Tony and his wife Laura will be here in an hour. How about a beer? I have wine, too."  
"What kind of wine?", walking down the spiral stairs ahead of him.  
"Oh, I think you'll like this one. It's an ice wine, so it's really sweet."  
"Ice wine?", I ask with intense curiosity. _'And sweet? Oh, I love sweet wine!'_  
Bruce recalls from our dinner at Chi-Cuts how I loved sweet wines and made a particular trip to buy a good bottle. He pours a glass for me, generously filling it with a beautiful purple fluid. One sip of this wine sends me over the edge.  
"This is fantastic!", I say excitedly, yet in a soft manner.  
Bruce pours a glass for himself, out of curiosity, and shares a similar expression of delight. As he turns to face the chef island to stack buttered crackers upon a rectangular white plate, I scan his buttocks snug against the blue jeans and trace my eyes upon the center of his back. The light blue long-sleeved cotton shirt fits him well, noting his shoulder blades and the strong shoulders that rest above. His hair is cut short, just above the collar, yet with a slight wave of dark brown hair with plenty of grays. It's such a turn-on. Honestly, I never imagined I'd be interested in an older man. He turns to his left to glance and share a smile, and I return the same.  
"Can I help?", I ask.  
"Thanks, but I got it. I forgot to set out the crackers, but that's done. Everything else is ready."  
There's a good allotment of finger foods on the table. Everything from olives, pickles, vegetables, cheeses, and dried sausage await for our consumption.  
"Would you like to sit down and relax?", he asks, grabbing his wine glass and moving out of the kitchen.  
"Sure.", taking my glass with.  
As we sit on the sofa, Bruce begins to share his story on how he and Tony met, about college life, and his short stint as a Family Doctor after Med school. I sip my wine, enjoying both the sweet poison and his company. His wine soaked lips moves with fervor, delighted he has someone to share his life story with. Just as he was discussing who has the most toys, Tony and Laura appear from the staircase.  
"Happy New Year!", Tony exclaims.  
Bruce introduces me to a perky couple within my age bracket. As I shake Tony's hand, a familiar energy jostles me. I've met this man before, I just know I have, yet I can't recall when or where. We all stand in the kitchen, drink and snack away, and both Laura and I pair up to chat. Thankfully, she does most of the talking. The social butterfly, much like her husband, hits every category of life. And when she began to discuss cooking, I jumped in to share my recipes. She and I moved into the living room with wine in tow, and the boys remain in the kitchen talking aloud with occasional bouts of laughter.  
By 11pm, I had three glasses of the iced wine and Bruce opens another bottle. The poison flows along with the sanguine fluid within my ductwork, and I merrily open up to Laura and take over the reins of discussion. I spoke of my lifestyle, my greenhouse, my landlord, my neighborhood ...anything I had a memory of I shared. I even shared my personal feelings of Bruce.  
"You two would make a cute couple.", she winks.  
"Aww. Thank you. Well? Our previous get togethers didn't end so well. I blame myself. I've been out of the dating game for so long, I don't even know how to behave appropriately around a man I find attractive.", I say into my wine glass.  
"What happened?", she asks.  
"I got cold feet. I think. I don't know. I just know I was cold to him on both occasions. It's like ...oh, I don't know. Maybe I'm scared. I've been single for what feels like an eternity."  
I nervously spin the glass in a clock-wise pattern, watching the purple ripples slosh around the glass bathtub.  
"Well. I can tell you this. Every time he talks about you around Tony, he is spellbound. He really likes you."  
"He likes me? Really?", I say in an obvious drunken, over exaggerated tone of glee.  
It's bad enough my face is already lightly flushed from the poison in my blood. To hear Bruce liking me made my cheeks burst into a dark pink. Tony rushes into the room and lands hard next to Laura, causing her to squeal in laughter. Bruce takes a gentle approach and sits to my right. I watch Tony try to tickle his wife in a playful manner.  
"You're drunk already? Tony!", she quips and tickles his right ribcage, forcing him to move away to safety.  
I chuckle at their loving behavior and find it terribly adorable.  
"Heeeey! Ten minutes to lift off!", shouts Tony. Bruce flips the stations and Tony shouts him to stop.  
"Keep it here! What is Lady Gaga wearing!?", he shrieks out loud.  
Just then, she begins to perform live to her song Bad Romance, and I swear, I about pissed my pants in laughter. Tony begins to imitate the dance moves of her video with impressive accuracy. Despite his drunken state, his choreography is impeccable. Incidentally, this is one of my favorite Gaga songs, and I've seen enough of her video to know the routine. I jump in and dance along, causing both Laura and Bruce to bust into a roar. Tony winks at me and he grabs Laura's hands to get her off the couch to dance with him. I follow suit, taking Bruce's hands and he stands there in awe as I dance around him seductively. Much like the dance routine of the video, I perform with accuracy along with Tony as she sings live in Time square. Bruce takes a number of hard swallows as I move around him, gliding my fingers around his upper body, and smile into his eyes. At the end of the song, he excuses himself and heads upstairs to the master bath. He needed to readjust himself, for his dick was hard and in the wrong position. He stood in the bathroom, calming himself down, patting a cool hand towel upon his forehead to kill his hard-on.  
"Bruce! Get your ass down here! Two minutes!", Tony shouts.  
He hurriedly moves down the stairs and joins us in time for the countdown. Merrily, we all cheer at the strike of zero hour, and I watch Tony and Laura kiss away. I look away, bashfully, staring at the beautiful oak wood flooring. Bruce takes his right fingers and settled them under my chin, lifting my face up to see his. My heart skips a few beats from his touch, and I nearly hold my breath too long as his sugar brown eyes held onto my own. He slowly moves into my face, plants his pretty dark pink lips upon my own, and I finally breathe. I close my eyes and take in the warm blends of mixed emotions. Happy, excited, uncertain, and scared, I stand absolutely still as our lips press together ...harder yet. It was the adjustment of his fingers to my cheekbones and the stroke of his thumb under my eye which causes me to gasp and open my mouth. He takes this as a sign to enter my body, and his warm tongue slithers alongside my own. Every muscle in my body is in a heightened state. My tight fists rise up and I unwind them slowly, lying my hands flat upon his chest. After a minute elapses, we pull away in hard smiles. I blush again, looking off to my right with my right fingers resting upon my lips.  
"Happy New Year!", Tony shouts with his wine glass high.  
Bruce and I grab our glass and we all tap glasses in a cheer. For the next hour or so, we sit on the sofa and discuss the pros and cons of resolutions.  
"Frankly, I don't believe in resolutions. Resolutions are promises, and promises are meant to be broken.", I share.  
Tony really liked my statement. He liked it so much, he began to use it at every New Year gathering thereafter. By 2am, Laura and Tony leave for their home. Bruce and I stand in the kitchen, quietly, both waiting for the other to say something or to make a move. I decide to pacify the silence with food in my mouth. I chew away at several black olives, then a sweet pickle, and then a piece of sausage. The comfort food agrees with me, and the deathly silence is no longer. Bruce watches me munch away, deciding on his next move.  
"If you don't want to stay here, I understand. I can call a cab, if you like."  
"Nonsense. I can sleep on the sofa.", I say in a drunken smile.  
"You want to watch a movie?", he asks with a slight quiver, hoping I'd say 'yes'.  
"Sure!"  
The brown leather sofa in his 'man cave' nearly swallows me alive. It's soft, cushy, and big enough for three. As he scans the DVD collection, my eyes find a movie of its own. I stare down his ass, then his legs, and back to his ass again. I begin to chew on my right thumb nail, enthralled in his beauty.  
"Action or comedy?", he asks, facing his collection and feeling stumped.  
 _'Fuck this movie bullshit.'_ , I say aloud inside my head. The poison is still rich and heavy in my veins, allowing the door to my emotional vault to swing wide open. I stand up, approach his backside, and move my palms around his ribcage. Surprised at my openness, he reaches for my hands as I hold his chest and rest my head upon the center of his back. I hold him well, feeling his heat press thru his cotton shirt. His fingers dance around my own, stroking them lightly, and then pries them away. He turns around and moves my hairs away from my face and tucks them behind my ears, smiling profusely.  
"We don't have to watch a movie.", he says softly.  
"I don't want to watch a movie.", I answer. "I want my Doctor to confirm that I am normal and there's nothing wrong with my life."  
"I can do that.", he exhales, kissing me hard.  
I immediately grab onto his shirt for dear life, for my heart pumped so hard, I believed I was about to pass out. Tongues dart in and out, lips smack and little wet sounds fill the room. His strong hands work behind my head, grabbing my hairs and pulling gently. The sensation of my hairs tangled in his fingers turn me on hard. I can't take it anymore. I want more! I pull up his shirt and grab the skin of his chest and move my fingers all around his front and back. His hands lower, skillfully working the zipper of my dress. Still kissing feverishly, I grab the bottom of his shirt and lift up. He quickly completes the task, pulls it off his body and tosses it aside. The dark hairs upon his virgin chest stare back at me, and I run the tips of my fingers thru them. Gently, he takes the shoulders of my dress, slides them off my body, and the dress falls to the floor. As I continue to slither my fingertips through the dark forest upon the center of his chest, his fingers releases my bra. Like a butterfly needing its nectar, I rest my lips upon his chest, take in a deep breath of his musk, and lick his skin. The salts tickle my taste buds and his soft kinky hairs blankets around my nose. The straps of my bra fall from my shoulders and his nimble fingertips travel over my shoulders, down my arms, and back up. I move my hands to his belly and feel for the button and zipper of his jeans. Without much trouble, I free them from his waist and they slowly ride down with Earth's gravity. All that remains upon our skin is our underwear.  
I haven't touched a man in so long, my poise is of shock and awe. His musk swirled inside my lungs, permeating my chest cavity and nearly suffocating me with ecstasy. When his lips reached the top of my right shoulder and he kissed me hard, I gasped loudly with approval. This excites him, bringing his lips higher along my neck. Loud kisses fill my right ear and the gentle tug of my skin drives my nails down his back. A growl leaves him and he quickly picks me up and carries me to his bedroom. My timid eyes stare deep into his own as he carries me along. A strong wave of anxiety rushes thru me, bringing my hands to hold each other tight over my chest. As he lay me down upon the royal blue comforter of his bed, I press my clasped hands hard upon my chest. My body shakes, knowing what may happen soon enough. He recognizes my tension and lay upon the bed alongside me, shifting back the gears to first, and gently strokes my left arm. He teases his fingertips along my clavicle, the inside of my neck, and lightly tugs my earlobe. I let out a light giggle, breaking the frigid ice encapsulating my trembling skin, and I turn to my left side to face him. My right fingers meet his left, and we wrestle them lightly.  
"Would you like your diagnosis?", he asks softly.  
I smile and nearly hide my face in embarrassment, for he is referring to my previous request.  
"You are normal. Perfect, in my eyes. And beautiful."  
I remain quiet and keep my eyes upon the royal blue comforter. I know he's just being nice, or trying to win me over with words most ladies would eat up. But his response is obvious, predictable, and avoiding my initial question. He lets go of my hand and pulls back the loose strands of brunettes hiding my face.  
"What's wrong?", he asks, for I continue to stare at his bed quietly.  
"Nothing.", teasing the comforter with my fingers.  
"You can tell me anything.", pushing the hairs back once more.  
"I barely know you.", I whisper.  
The cold inner breeze returns, for I can feel it brush down my spine. I close my eyes and fight it. I fight it hard. I plead with my heart to keep the hot blood moving thru my veins and capillaries. _'Harder ...faster ...don't let me grow cold.'_  
Bruce's unfazed by my words and continues to brush the hairs away and now tucks them behind my right ear.  
"I can't remember the last time I lay with another man. I don't even recall ever having kissed another man, except for the other night ...with you. Something is wrong with my memory, Bruce." He rubs my right shoulder for reassurance, but all I receive is a box full of void.  
"Where did my past go?", I ask thru my quivering lips.  
"I don't know.", he answers with a strong grasp upon my shoulder.  
My heart can't break the ice advancing over my body once more. It's like a Goddamned glacier created in my own ice age, creeping forth to halt my emotions. I snuggle up close to his bare heat, desperate to end the advancing cold. I never felt so desperate to be held by another. His left hand welcomes my pleas, pressing upon my right shoulder-blade, and as he moves his open palm down my back, the heat melts the ice upon my skin. Every stroke he passes on my back warms me further, and after a number of gracious rubs, I feel a fire flicker deep inside my chest. As the tips of my fingers press his hot skin ahead of me, I reach up to the heavens and feel the smile upon his lips and the twitch of the muscle above his cheekbone. A perfect kiss lands upon my forehead, sending my emotions off the deep end.  
"I'm sorry I was cold to you. At Dilly's. At my place.", I whisper thru my silent tears, which he responds with a stronger hold and another kiss. "I feel as if I've lived a life of singularity. As if it's all I know."  
"May I offer a suggestion?", he asks, teasing the tops of my hairs with his right hand. I nod 'yes'.  
"I don't want to rain on your parade of loneliness, but I would like to end your drought. May I be your boyfriend?"  
Bruce knows what he wants and confidence resides within, yet he's dealing with a woman whose mind is as thin as egg shells. Instead of asking to be his, he allows me to decide if I want him. Much like the day I awoke in my apartment to the sound of thunder and rain, I reciprocated the event with cries and tears to his request.  
"Yes!", I exclaim thru the blubber of my lips.  
In return, he moves his right arm under my head, coiling both arms around my body to constrict me close. His hold feels like an eternity. Forever perfect. To feel needed. To feel cherished. It's all I ever wanted. As the storm from my lips cease, he pushes himself up and pulls the comforter and sheet down, and I follow his lead. He returns the security blanket over our bodies, as I lay on my left side and tuck my arms and hands together next to the pillow. I snuggle close to rest the tip of my nose upon his chest, just so I can lose myself in his scent. Another kiss is pressed upon my forehead, and I close my eyes. Slowly, my mind drifts thru the emotional slop and rests upon an olive branch. Peacefully, I drift to sleep. The warmth of his body and the heavy comforter is enough to pacify my body and sleep in the womb of his bed. Bruce watches me sleep soundly, and after thirty minutes of gentle caresses of my right hand, he falls asleep resting his left hand above my own.

A life destitute of company is no longer. Thank the Gods for answering my simple request of friendship with another man. Thank the Goddesses for allowing me to taste him, to feel his succulent body against mine, and his valiant heart to ask me out. I've never perceived myself as a lucky person, for luck never finds me. However, I feel lucky today. I feel lucky ...in love.


	10. The Calm Before The Storm - Part Four

Jose approached me Monday, before my leave, to ask how my New Years went. I suppose I over spoke and spilled the beans with Rose nearby. Jose enjoyed hearing me talk passionately of my night with Bruce. It's a side of me he's never seen. A side to prove I'm not a cold woman but with a heart so desperate to share it with another. I proudly advised I was no longer a single woman and thanked him for making this possible. Jose stood ten feet tall with pride, stoked he made another successful match, and was all smiles the rest of the work week. Rose kept her ears open and stood outside the staging door, fingertips dancing on her BlackBerry, documenting every word. She attached the note to an email and forwards it. My condition "Charley" brought Moose to monitor my goings with close inspection, and he was not pleased to find the blue star upon his GPS unit nailed to Bruce Banner's home on New Years Eve and Day. The note arriving Monday night from Rose only confirmed my location. On Tuesday, Bruce shared lunch in Vendoland with me, even though he wasn't scheduled to work at the lab.  
"I'll bring lunch on Thursday.", Bruce said before we parted eyes, my heart fluttering with my eyelids.  
"Hey! I'd like to cook dinner on Friday, at my place. How does vegetable stir fry sound?"  
"That sounds fantastic! Using your garden vegetables, right?"  
"You better believe it.", I wink, then disappear behind DESS' door.

On Thursday, Bruce swipes his badge to my floor and receives no response. He tries twice more, again with no response. The paper bag in his left hand, holding our cold deli sandwiches, makes a crumbling sound as his grip hardens. His greatest concern comes to light.  
"Son of a BITCH.", he hisses.  
He knows this is Moose's doing. Bruce heads to his lab, puts the bag into the cooler, and enters his office.  
"We need to talk.", says Moose, sitting in Bruce's chair.  
"Then you'd better start talking, for my patience is running real thin.", he growls.  
"Happy New Year, by the way."  
"Get to the point.", snaps Bruce.  
Moose taps his upper left arm three times, looking dead into Bruce's eyes, and the message is clear. He is reminding Bruce of the RFID capsule in my arm to track my movement.  
"It stops right here, right now.", pointing at Bruce's desk.  
Bruce drops both open hands hard upon his desk, sending forth a message of disapproval. Within his ear canal the sounds of his muscles pull, the blood rushes, and the tissues shift. With every breath, the monster urges Bruce for one shot in Moose's face ...just a tap, a push, a flick of its green finger. The threat doesn't break Moose's egotistical demeanor.  
"Bruce. She's unstable, an unknown, and therefore, we need to keep her naïve of her past. The Glass House isn't going to be ready for another two months."  
"You're putting her in there?! For what purpose!"  
"Research." Moose taps a toothpick out of a black container and chews away.  
"Research. Right. Like the monkeys she works with, you're going to display her in your personal exhibit? It's inhumane!"  
"Who said she's Human? Thor doesn't believe she is. Didn't your parents teach you to never question God?"  
Bruce pushes off the desk, spins around to face his door, and shakes his head. His chest begins to hurt from his deep heaving, fists tight to hold back the monster stirring within, and teeth clenched hard to hold in his angry words. Nothing he says will change Moose's mindset, but he fights for our relationship anyway. He rests his hands upon his hips, faces Moose, and fires back.  
"You're going to listen to a Norse God, whom can't even keep the people he's responsible for from killing each other, and not your conscience? I expected better judgment from a Commander of Earth's saving grace."  
Moose smiles at Bruce's desk, amused with his defense.  
"By the end of your work day, I expect you to change your phone number. Your access is already pulled to her floor and no more in or outside rendezvous. She is off-limits."  
"She's not a threat, Moose. She's ...".  
"Your girlfriend, no more."  
Bruce slams his open hands hard upon his desk, growling, furious Moose can swing his power with no discretion.  
"She approached me! I followed orders, Moose, just like you asked!"  
"I can have her transferred to Site R by 5pm. It's your call.", Moose says nonchalantly.  
"You wouldn't.", brows heavy, narrowing his eyes.  
Bruce knows Moose is serious. Having Jules at Site R equates to zero contact. Raven Rock is a defunct military underground base, which BlackOps graciously purchased and rehabbed for safekeeping high risk unknowns, aggressive aliens, and plethora of cryogenically sealed specimens from outer worlds. Site R is a last resort, a prison, and a dead end for uncooperative and deadly creatures. The jobs pay well, but living underground is not for everyone. Each employee lives and works underground for ninety days straight and receives a full week vacation outside afterwards. There is no knowing what Moose would do to her at Site R. She could be an employee or a prisoner and this unknown frightens Bruce to the core. He steps back, calms his demeanor, and agrees to Moose's requests.  
"I'll do it."  
"I knew you would."  
Moose leaves Bruce standing alone, staring at his desk, and in complete mental disarray. He worked so hard to gain her trust, to rekindle their lost relationship, and now? A disaster of undeniable repercussions is about to ensue in his life. There is no fixing, no undoing, and no rescuing his relationship with Jules. He frets how she will handle the coming tide. Immediately, his closest confidant comes to mind and makes a cry for help.  
"Tony? Call me. ASAP."

I send a text after returning to my desk, hungry: 'Were we supposed to meet for lunch today?' My cellphone remains quiet and I find it terribly odd. Maybe I had it wrong ...were we to meet Friday? Maybe he confused dinner with lunch. I stare at my phone, motionless, all the way home, begging for a response. Pal Hal notices my expression of disappointment and confusion.  
"You appear troubled, Jules. Is everything alright?"  
"Yeah. I'm fine. I think my phone has gone awry. I'm not getting any messages."

I must have cradled my phone all night like an infant, desperate for Bruce's response. I begged for a vibration, a ping, even a wrong phone number call. It's terribly quiet ...mute ...cold. Inpatient, I call him. 'The subscriber you have dialed is no longer in service.'  
"What?!"  
I redial twice more and even manually key in his number, thinking it will make a difference, yet the same 'no longer in service' message comes thru. In a panic, I text him: 'Bruce. Please respond.'  
'Message denied.'  
"I don't understand. Why didn't he tell me he was changing his number? Maybe he lost his phone? Yes. That's it. He's getting a new phone."  
I pace my apartment, justifying his lack of response, an encounter, his affection to ease my worries with random excuses.  
"He knows my address. He'll stop by. I'm sure."  
No one visits me.

The next day, I keep my phone in view upon my desk. I want to believe it's technology making my life a living hell, but my gut keeps delivering negative probabilities. Bruce and I have a connection. I FELT it that night! Even Laura said he's got a crush on me. Believing the issue is my phone, I turn to Rose for help.  
"Can I ask a small favor?"  
"Sure.", she responds, fingers dancing away on her keyboard.  
"Send me a test message via text to my phone?"  
"Alright."  
It beeps with her message, and my heart drops out of my chest.  
"Thanks."  
She goes right back to her work, deep in thought as usual.

Lunch is my last hope, and I find myself alone in the back of the room. I stare at both my untouched bagel with turkey, provolone, lettuce, and my phone. My body is posed as still as a sand crane, waiting for a fish to appear and nourish me. My eyes wander to the door of the lunchroom, every time someone waltzes in. _'Something is wrong. This feels wrong.'_  
I spent my entire weekend inside my greenhouse, among my true friends, contemplating what I may have said or done to Bruce to push him away. I hoped Woekey would make a visit, but the bird doesn't show. Time felt irrelevant, despite the sun rising and setting. It was the longest weekend of my life.

The next week, I find myself unwinding emotionally at home. As soon as I leave Hal's car and walk up the stairs, I cry. As I eat my dinner alone, I cry. I'm crying in the shower. I'm crying myself to sleep. Bruce wouldn't let me go like this, would he? HE was the one asking ME to be his boyfriend! Maybe I said something inappropriate? Yes. I must have done something ...but what? My memories suck as it is! The past is juggling with the present, stronger than past weeks, colliding in furor to mend the broken bridge.  
At work, I muster to push my personal issues aside to keep my focus on the task. Surprisingly, I find it easy to fake a smile and pretend my life is peachy keen. Before I know it, I'm emotionally numb to my unusual dilemma. I'm in denial of Bruce's absence, holding on to hope my phone will chime to his message or a call will come my way. Oftentimes, I daydream of him walking into our office or into Vendoland. By Friday afternoon, I grow tired of holding my Pandora box of emotions under control. I rest my face in my hands and weep quietly. Rose hears a sniffle and questions my behavior.  
"What's wrong, Jules?"  
"I don't feel well."  
"Wrap up what you're doing and go home."  
"I'm fine.", wiping the tears away.  
"You just said you don't feel well.", annoyed by my response.  
"I'll make it.", I mumble and refocus my mind back on my spreadsheet, heavy of data collected from my telekinesis sessions with rhesus #1 and #3. A perfect pair, matching nearly each object the other held while sitting behind a concrete wall and moving the objects in gentle nudges to get the other to pick up the correct item. Possible vocalizations outside our hearing capacity was ruled out and my initial disbelief that telekinesis was even realistic is now a fact.  
Almost three weeks passed since the raven made its visit. Every other day or so at work, Rose would ask me if the bird ever returned. Despite Woekey's absence, my monitoring continued. Rose documented every detail of my behavior and word, sending a quick synopsis of my work day to her boss.

My Friday night dinner consists of steamed salmon, white rice, and green beans with buttered panko. Sitting at the table with dried salty tears on my cheeks, I stare at the kitchen stove. My mind drifts heavily, burdened in worry over Bruce's wellbeing. What if he was in an accident and had been laid up in a hospital all this time? I pull out the laptop and do a search with the local newspapers, looking for vehicular or pedestrian accidents. Every website I touch, BOD gets a peek. They now know I'm looking for Bruce. With no luck, I search the missing and lost pets database for a docile, hand reared raven. Again, I find no matches. I'm relieved, for I don't want to lose Woekey. Not now. I need its company, more than ever. After taking a bite of the salmon, a strong tap sounds from the sliding door. Immediately, I leave my chair and squeal with excitement!  
"Oh my God! Thank God you're here!"  
The raven waltzes in, proceeds with a strut as if it's King to my home. I normally leave the door partly open, but today's weather is rather brutal. The current temperature is 2 degrees Fahrenheit and is to get as low as -12 degrees overnight.  
"Where've you been, Woekey? Are you hungry?"  
CAW!  
"I'm sure. You've got to be burning fuel like crazy, just to keep warm."  
I examine the contents in my fridge and grab the plastic bag filled with shaved deli turkey. I pull out a good handful of meat and set it on a white ceramic plate. As soon as I place it on the floor, Woekey walks up and gobbles all the meat like a starved beast. I lower a soup bowl of water to the floor, which it drinks little of. I watch in amusement, as the bird turns around and quickly hops away, taking flight to land upon my bed.  
"Hey now!"  
God, I needed a good laugh! I find it comical this bird would just kick back after a free meal and head right for the sack. I sit back down and continue with my meal.  
"So. How's Woekey anyway?"  
I eat and watch in amazement. The bird's looking around, tilting its head this way and that. Very typical bird behavior. Clearly, it's examining my room.  
"I'll be honest, Woekey. I really missed your company. Bruce has gone AWOL on me. He changed his phone number, stopped visiting me at lunch, and I have no explanation. None. I must've done something to scare him off. I mean, he asked ME out. Why would he just ...just stop seeing me?"  
I toy at my dinner, look at the bird, and then lose it in tears.  
"What's WRONG with me?!", I scream. I pick up my plate and throw it at my front door. "Fuuuuck!"  
Quickly, I hide my face into my hands and cry my eyes out, while Woekey flutters down to the floor and pursues the scattered dinner for his taking. He searches out the salmon first, the breaded beans, and then the rice last. I look up and chuckle at his behavior.  
WOEKEY. WOEKEEEEY.  
"Yes, I know. Your name is Woekey. Thanks for cleaning up. Sorry you had to see that."  
I don't know where my anger came from, but I feel much better. As I wipe up the mess with a dish towel, I begin to question if I've been angry in my past for all I feel is loneliness and independence.  
"I need more than an emotional memory. I need pictures to go along with it! FUCK!! Who the Hell am I!!", I yell.  
CAW!  
Woekey rests upon my comforter once more, bringing me to chuckle again and smile at his peaceful demeanor. I toss the towel at the sink and proceed to the bed, agreeing to a rest. Woekey watches me as I pass by, noting my human curves underneath the beige tank top and the bikini white panties to express my hip bones. I lay down with my feet pointing at my headboard and rest my head upon my left arm, only three feet from the birds position. I give in to the night, for my mind is weary and full of meaningless questions of Bruce and I.  
"I'm tired of worrying about Bruce. But I can't help it. It's out of his character to just ...just avoid my existence. Why me?"  
Woekey lets out a yawn and blinks its eyes, sharing a disinterest in my concerns. In turn, I yawn back and carefully approach the back of its head with my right fingers. I gently pet the soft silky black feathers, stroke down the back and then massage the rear of its neck. A few minutes later, Woekey turns its head to eye me, lowers its noggin upon the bed, and nestles its beak into the cloak of its feathers. The bird remains this way for another five minutes and then it was fully asleep. How odd, I thought, and grab my pillow to lay next to my friend. The night is bitterly cold, and I allow Woekey to stay indoors. Peacefully it slept, feathers faintly moving to each breath. Its company is reassurance I am among a friend, and for the first night since Bruce ignored my being, I didn't cry myself to sleep.

Saturday morning came with my body feeling well rested for a change. I raise my head to check on Woekey. Bewildered, my eyes widen in surprise for the bird is nowhere to be seen. I rise quickly and look around the room in desperation.  
"Woekey? Where are you, bird?"  
I squat down to look under the bed. Nothing. I walk into the bathroom and check the shower. I look at the kitchen counter. I look behind the shoji screen and around the dresser. I double my efforts everywhere, yet not a sign of the bird. I even check the locks on both doors.  
"Woekey?"  
I'm beyond perplexed.  
 _'I didn't let the bird back outside, did I?!'_  
I question if the bird was even in my apartment. Did I dream of this? Did I make this up, out of desperation to be with someone?  
 _'I must be loosing my FUCKING mind!'_  
When Loki did visit, he did so at night in Asgard, hence his tired demeanor. When he awoke, the dark midnight blue eyes watched me sleep soundly, sharing a heavy grin over his accomplishments. His presence, shadowed from Heimdall's watch, is breathtakingly beautiful. The black feathered cloak rests over him, head and all, giving all eyes before him the making of a raven. Before his leave, he pet my hair with his left index finger and thumb, and plants a whisper into my right ear.  
"Vanish, and you no longer walk among the mortals. Appear, to return. This is your gift."

It's colder than fudge out. Woekey's visit rebuilt my drive, one more and I swear final attempt to answer my lost relationship. I settle for a walk to Bruce's home, despite a distance of five miles there and another five back. With a little help of Google satellite imagery, I spot his rooftop tiki bar and lock his location on my iPhone. Bundled up to brave the elements of Midwest's winter, I'm blasted in the face by Skadi, the Goddess of Winter, cutting thru my black pea coat to change my mind. Unfazed, I walk with the early sun and icy sidewalks. The occasional brisk wind curses my decision. Even the freezing temps don't bother the exposed flesh of my rosy cheeks. It takes me two hours to reach his home, and as soon as I see the silver gated fence, my heart skips and flops like if it's dying. Grabbing my chest upon my coat with my left hand, I take a number of deep breaths to ease myself. I swallow hard, stare at the intercom button upon the ornate fence, and contemplate whether this is a good idea. I worry.  
 _'I look desperate. Okay. Don't look desperate.'_  
I peer up to the large picturesque windows and see a reflection of the blue sky upon the glass. Fighting back my tears and shaking my hands, I finally press the button. Silence. I try again. And again. I get no response.  
 _'Maybe he's at Tony's.'_

Bruce approaches the window of his workshop and gasps when he finds me out front. His feet shuffles back a number of steps to clear the view of the window, "Shit! Shit-shit-shit! Go away, Jules!"  
He immediately calls Tony.  
"She's out front, Tony! She's not leaving!", he yells in a panic.  
"Calm down! And don't respond! She'll leave. Make her think you're not home."

I walk a couple of blocks further, hitting the Mag Mile, and proceed to window shop to kill time. I view the beautiful high fashion dresses in season, the ridiculous four inch heels in sequins, and other oddities along the way. A long line of dedicated customers and visitors stand outside Chicago's favorite popcorn shop, braving the cold. Mom's and their daughters leave the American Girl store with shopping bags full of over-priced doll clothing and accessories. I wander inside the Watertower Place and buy a pound of clear gummy bears in white chocolate, which are my personal addiction, and find a bench to rest my weary Soul to people watch the rest of my afternoon.

"Did she come back?", Tony asks in a phone call after sunset.  
"No. And I didn't hear from Moose or anyone from BOD. Man ...I hate this!"  
"I know this is hard, but you need to avoid her. Having her underground for three months? I wouldn't even wish it on my enemy."

When I make my way back to Bruce's, the night's in full swing, and I find the lights on in his kitchen. Nervous once more, I shake out my hands and then press the intercom button. Bruce jumps from the sound of the chime, and he slowly makes his way from the living room to the kitchen window. I see him looking out, standing to the side, slowly motioning his right hand to move ...shoo ...go away. I clasp my hands to my lips and stand motionless, patiently wait for a response. My heart is working so hard, my chest feels as if I've been beaten and bruised with an angry fist. I see his body move to the left, as if he's trying to hide from my view. Not a wave or a verbal response follows our moment. I grab the silver fence with both hands watch him with intensity.  
 _'Why aren't you responding? Why aren't you coming out to see me? Why the silent treatment?'_  
My heart bleeds, as he walks away from the window. I hesitate to try the intercom, but I give it one more shot. I get nothing. I look back up and watch the kitchen light turn off. My eyes lock to his front door, but he doesn't show. It was that very moment, life came to a raging halt. I fall to my knees in tears, still gripping the fence, and cry like a baby. How could a man so warm, so kind, now treat me so cold? Is this retribution for treating him cold on our first two dates?  
"Why me? Why is this happening?", I say aloud thru my tears. "I'm sorry! Whatever I've done wrong? I'm so very sorry!"  
Bruce has the intercom on to hear me and watches my reaction on the video, and his own heart nearly dies from the guilt of allowing me to believe I've done wrong. Desperate, he wants to rush outside to comfort me. Anger quickly builds within, as he paces back and forth within his bedroom, practicing his breathing exercises. The beast empathized with me and he's angry with Bruce.  
The wind is brutal, whipping the icy hairs across my face from my tears. Red streaks appear upon my cheeks from each strike, and I eventually give up. I pick myself up and cry out his name.  
"Bruce?! Bruce! If you can hear me? I'm sorry. I'm so very sorry. Please forgive me for hurting you in any way. I can't blame you for leaving me. It was wrong of me to allow you into my life, when I don't even know who I am."  
I walk away, depressed as fuck, and the stray hairs around my face become laden in icy tears. Memories of my past, full of depressing moments like this, flood my mind. Visions of my quiet and lonely childhood returns, followed with my quiet, antisocial, and independent adulthood. They stand out in epic colors, memories so vivid with detail, I can't grasp how I managed to live this way. I walk home in the freezing cold, zombie-like, as I continue to flash back to my past. It all makes sense now. I've never had a taste of happiness before. This? Bruce and I? It was too good to be true. I scared him off. My lack of understanding of happy and relationships scared him off.

My apologies tripped Bruce's safety switch, unleashing the monster within, and in ten seconds flat, his bedroom is declared uninhabitable. An end bedpost turned into wooden spears and pierced through the drywall to his walk-in closet and into his bathroom. The bed he threw against the brick wall, breaking the frame. The headboard he smashed into little pieces. The corner wall to his closet is sheared clean. White chalky dust settles gently in his bedroom and upon a naked, crying man. It's been years since he lost control of his rage, unleashing the mean green monster within. He slowly makes his way to the kitchen, picks up his phone, and calls Tony back.  
"Do you know of any good, reliable carpenters?"  
"Hey, alright! You've finally decided to go ahead and upgrade your man cave?"  
"No. I destroyed my bedroom."  
"What?! What happened? ...oh man."  
While Bruce tells Tony what he did in response to my words, I'm about half way home. Still upset, I begin to speak out loud in anger.  
"I wish I didn't exist! I wish I could just disappear! I wish I could just vanish!"  
I have my arms wrapped tight around my chest to trap my body heat in and my head down low out of sadness. Quickly, I see another set of legs and feet ahead of me, and I stop to avoid a collision. Instead, the stranger walks right thru me! I turn around in complete shock and watch the man casually walk away. I continue my walk home with a cautious attitude and spot another man walking my way. I stand still and as he nears, I close my eyes. He passes right through me!  
 _'What ...what's happening? How did he just do that?'_  
I quickly find a car side view mirror, look into it, and notice my face missing!  
 _'Oh my God! I'm invisible!'_  
Ecstatic and scared to my wits, I swipe my hands through a lamp post and then grab it at will. The knack is imminently familiar. The gift feels my own. Such glee fills me, erasing any prior concerns of Bruce and I. Purposely, I walk thru trees, people, and yell obscenities to a group of five thug wannabes with the waist of their pants holding onto dear life around their upper thighs.  
"Pull up your pants, assholes!", I yell with a delightful grin, walking right through them and waving my wands all over their shocked facial expressions .  
"Who the FUCK just said shit!", one of the men hollers.  
I freeze in place, surprised I was heard, for I assumed invisibility meant I can't be heard, seen, period.  
"Bitch better show yourself!", another shouts, followed with much approval and grunts from the others.  
I turn slowly to view their anger, each one looking around parked cars and up at the houses. I slap my right hand over my mouth, holding back the laughter screaming inside. The commotion cheers me even further and I take off skipping home in delight.  
"Punk wannabes!", I shout back.  
I had to. It's like taking a stick and prodding a fire ant hill, pissing the army off to oblivion. The guys holler back a handful of obscenities as I skip away, feeling empowered. I don't even bother with the keys. I pass thru my two doors and head straight to my standing mirror, seeing no one.  
"Come back."  
"Return."  
"Unvanish."  
I scratch my head and feel rather confused. Why is this so hard?  
"Show myself?"  
I grab the iPhone, pull up an online Thesaurus, and eyeball the options.  
"Appear."  
Just like magic, I reappear upon the reflective metal. I throw my arms around in joy, grab my head in bewilderment, and play with my newfound ability for the next full hour. Bruce is barely a dent on my mind, now. I have something else to deal with. I have myself. My new ability. I feel ...reborn.

On my way to work, Bruce slips into my mind. Instead of watching the traffic pass us by, I look at my hands and fidget my fingers. My memories are slowly returning and my shocking ability to vanish is worrisome. Yet naughty ideas surface, leaking from my hippocampus, issuing sketches of unthinkable acts. Sneaking into his home unnoticed, spying on him, watch him take a shower, see if it's another girl he's fallen for ...or I could rob a bank, take anything I want from any store, or fuck someone up that's deserving of it. Nevertheless, I question my very existence.  
 _'Who AM I?'_

All week I sit quietly at my desk, uninterested to mingle casually with my colleagues and only if it's work related. I often see Rose tinkering with that damned Blackberry device like her life depends on it. I never once suspected she was sending info about me to anyone. Why would I? Hell, I never suspected I was a possible threat to B.O.D. and was constantly monitored around the clock. Rose alerts Moose of my change in behavior and he moves my alert status to Bravo.  
I go about my morning duties, shift the monkeys into a clean holding cell with breakfast. 8:30am rolls around and Rose asks me a question.  
"No signs of your mystery bird?"  
"He stopped by Friday night. I let him sleep inside, due to the extreme cold."  
"Is the bird still in your apartment?"  
I break eye contact with her and take a short pause. What do I tell her? That the bird just mysteriously disappeared?  
"No. I let it out, before I left for errands Saturday morning. It hasn't returned since."

An emergency meeting is held with several key B.O.D. staff members, all who've been monitoring Jules since day one. There's a concern that the raven in question is Loki in disguise, for it's known that Loki can shape shift. The name is too coincidental and her change in behavior denotes a possible reversal of her amnesia.  
"It wouldn't surprise me that Loki is purposely stimulating her memories, just to bring her abilities back.", says a man whom goes by Bingo, for he takes his loving Grandma to the VFW Hall every Wednesday night to play.  
"And you're worried that Dr. Banner would trigger her memories? He's not the issue, here. If anything, he's an asset. To be up close and personal, he can keep us informed of any potential issues we cannot capture thru the RFID or video. We know Jules is cautious to express her personal side.", says Rose.  
"Good points. I'll handle Bruce. Rose, keep me updated, especially on the raven. Have Migs in my office in two days. I believe he can be found in New Zealand."  
The Glass House is still under final prep, with Moose pushing the project to completion in five weeks instead of eight. Rachel sits quietly in the meeting, taking notes, and Moose instructs her to call Thor.  
"Make him aware of Jules and her visitor. I want confidence on Thor's part his brother ends his casual encounters with Jules. Her memories are rising to the surface sooner than anticipated. We don't need the God of Misfortune aggravating the slumbering beast. Our goal is to keep her mind dormant until the Glass House is complete."

Heimdall listens to Rachel's calling and sends a messenger to alert Thor. Time is irrelevant on Asgard. It does not co-exist in real-time as on Midgard, therefore, seconds after Rachel calls out Thor's name the gateway automatically activates and he walks out of the grey stormy circle inside the transporter room.  
"Hey!"  
"Greetings, Rachel. You called for me ...and appear troubled."  
"We suspect Loki is visiting Jules.", leaving the firm embrace of his arms.  
"Here, in this facility?"  
"No. We believe he's visiting in the form of a bird. A raven. At her place."  
"A raven?"  
"The bird calls itself Woekey."  
"By Odin's beard, did you say Woe Key?"  
Odin has two ravens of his own: Hugin and Munin. Never did Thor see Loki shape shift into a raven before. That did not mean he hasn't done so and he knows Loki is capable of shape shifting into any kind of living creature or duplicating his own.  
"I will explore this matter and return in haste."  
He quickly walks up the ramp and yells out Heimdall's name. The gate opens up, he walks thru the swirling gray matter, and the gate quickly closes behind him. Upon Thor's return, he questions Heimdall.  
"Have you taken any notice of Loki outside of Asgard?"  
"I have not. His presence remains."  
"A raven going by the name of Woekey has been visiting Jules."  
"He has tested my vision on many occasions, but without success. He is wiser now and well versed in sorcery. It is possible he has found a way to breach my security."  
Thor leaves the circular pad and with the swing of his mjolnir he flies towards the city. As he approaches the palace, he flies up and to the right of the building, housing the private residence of his brother. He lands on the garden patio above the building and quickly proceeds down the hall to Loki's door. He knocks loudly.  
"Loki! I must speak with you!"  
Loki is sitting in his favorite black and red velvet-lined chair, facing the open French doors, and motions the male servant to open the door. Thor quickly approaches Loki.  
"Please come clean, Brother. Have you made a visit to Midgard?"  
Loki raises his eyebrows with surprise. He turns his upper torso counterclockwise and greets his brother with a smile. "I remain loyal to Father and have kept my promise not to stray." "You swear it?"  
Loki changes his amused reaction to curiosity.  
"Your skepticism is most troublesome, Brother. Why the suspicion?"  
"Rachel claims Jules had been taken in by a raven. A raven whom calls itself Woekey."  
Loki looks away from Thor and laughs loudly.  
"Do NOT amuse me!", he scorns and his voice rattles loose items needlessly.  
Loki returns his eyes on his brother, still amused in a chuckle.  
"I affirm to you my presence has been on Asgard. I have no pleasure of making a visit to that wretched woman. Not after she ventured to kill us all."  
Thor relaxes his tense body, believing his brother. He recalls the guards witnessing Jules attacking Loki in the Rayless Vault, wounded in the process with his left hand cut open and her loud threats to kill his family was also heard by Odin.  
"My apologies for the accusations, Brother."  
Loki waves his right hand at Thor as to respond with forgiveness. Thor turns around and leaves the room, bringing Loki to stand and walk in a fit of pride outside to the patio. He stands two feet away from the railing and with his arms down to his side, he rests his glare upon the horizon and ponders his next move. Heimdall observes Loki from his guarded post, eager to catch him red-handed.

Late Friday night Woekey shows up again, just as I'm fluffing the sheet and comforter over my legs. The tapping of my sliding glass door is Woekey's signature, and I gladly allow it to enter my dark home.  
"Rotten timing. You're lucky I'm still awake.", opening the fridge to pull out the turkey meat.  
He immediately flies up to my bed and nestles on my fluffy comforter.  
"Are you kidding me? You're here to sleep? You ARE an odd creature."  
I snuggle back under the covers and pat my hand upon the comforter near my second pillow.  
"Come here, Woekey. Next to me."  
I don't know why I began to humanize the bird, treating it as my own. I recall Bruce telling me to not discuss Woekey at work and to avoid the bird. My immediate reaction was to bond even more with the raven. Now that Bruce is out of the picture, I'm compelled to house Woekey in my greenhouse. A selfish act, yes, but I yearn its company. Much like my plants, I yearn its unconditional love. Woekey hops over to my right hand and lays down close to my head. Its response to my simple request brings me to silent tears.  
"I wish I could fly away with you. I'd love to see where you go. Where you live. Flight just ...it just feels like a natural ability. If I could just fly away. FAR away from this madness. If only ...".  
Tonight I dreamt heavily of free flying over mountains, deserts, and vast oceans. It felt familiar, recent, and natural. The corners of my lips reached high to my cheekbones, for I was so God damned happy in my dream tonight. When I awoke, I wanted to thank Woekey but the bird was nowhere to be found. Once again, I scoured my apartment to find my doors locked and myself alone. I refused to question the birds disappearance.  
 _'I'm not crazy. I'm not. The bird was here. It slept with me. Woekey slept with me.'_  
However, Loki appeared in spirit as I slept, disguised under the raven-like cloak. He pet my head and whispered into my right ear.  
"Soar high with no limitations, Jules. This gift is bestowed to you."

A week after Bruce stopped communications with me, I noticed Jose began to distance himself from me as well. We only discussed work-related matters and his usual comical persona was gone. The comical personal questions ceased, as well as random chatter. I accepted this change of venue and found comfort he or no one pried into my personal life. By the third week, I began to feel a desperation from Jose to speak with me on a more personal level. But it wasn't just him I began to pick up emotions from. At lunch, I began to feel the emotions of others, which lead to random information about themselves. As I work my Sudoku puzzle and now sit with my back facing the room, I'm actually tuning into these emotional energies. One man was dealing with a sick mother in a nursing home with months left on her biological clock. A woman yearns to have children of her own, especially after her young sister gave birth to her third child. Everyday, I use my Empathic ability to read out strangers in the hall, in Vendoland, or in the convenience store.  
 _'So. I can read emotions and become invisible. Damn! I can do some serious damage with my abilities. This is Superhero shit!'_  
It doesn't take long for me to fall back to my old ways. I begin to take cash from the evil Mom and Pop convenience stores, operating as a front to their true purpose of heavyweight drug trafficking. February's rent comes with two grand extra for Mr. Rey, and he nearly cried. It just felt right.  
"Happy New Year, Mr. Rey.", I said.

Thor pulls a meeting together with his clan, sharing his concerns of his brother's possible leave to Midgard by magic. Of the four, Sif holds the most hatred for Loki. He takes this into consideration and asks for her help.  
"I have a task for you."  
"Does it involve a crusade?"  
"No, it does not, but it equals in importance. I would like you to follow Loki close. See to it he does not use magic to leave Asgard."  
"My pleasure."

Sif locates Loki walking to the Library and she follows at a safe distance. Loki browses the historical texts of past civilizations and pulls out a bluish leather-bound book. It's 13 x 19 inches in size and filled with three hundred pages. The library's built with an open atrium nestled in the middle of the building. He takes a seat and kicks his feet up on to an end table, looks up to the open sky and begins to flip thru the book. _Destruction of Stryka_. A fitting book, he thought, and proceeds to read. Sif hides off to his right, thirty feet out of sight. She randomly picks a book from the shelf and sits down on the marbled floor. At random intervals she flips the pages in book, yet keeps most of her attention on him. After a good hour, Loki let out a yawn and reposition his body to slouch back into his chair and rest the open book over his face. He crosses his arms and rests them on his chest. Sif watches with increased interest, observing his chest rise and then fall in a slow consistent pattern of sleep. She smirks, rolls her eyes, and looks down at the book she holds in her hands. She closes the book to read the title. _Proper Female Etiquette of Mimir_.  
"Oh, brother!", she hisses quietly, and places the book back on the bookshelf. She remains diligent and keeps her watch.

I pick a cucumber, a green bell pepper, a zucchini, and a handful of cherry tomatoes. I cradle all but the tomatoes into my left arm. The cherry tomatoes I hold in my hand and snack away. Just as I open the greenhouse door to exit, I hear the sound of joy.  
WOEKEEEY. WOEKEEEY.  
"Woekey!"  
To see my friend soar to me is a beautiful sight! I'm so excited to see that damned bird, my heart flutters as if the man of my dreams walked into my life! I close the greenhouse door and slide open the door to the apartment, watching the raven quickly move ahead and enter before me. I respond with sarcasm and laughter and shut the sliding door.  
"Well, excuuuuse me!"  
I lie the veggies on the countertop and begin to wash them.  
"Where do you go? Do you have friends, or other ravens, you live with? You know. I'm beginning to suspect you're a male. You have a crush on me, don't you?"  
I chuckle at my joke and dry off my hands.  
"Are you staying for dinner? I make a killer stir fry ...".  
As I turn around to speak at Woekey, a tall slender man with shoulder length silvery hair, dressed in a strange leathery brown attire, stands facing me with a strong sneer. I holler in shock, lean my back against the countertop and grab the edges with my fingertips. I hold my breath and close my eyes hard for five seconds. Slowly, I open my eyes and the man is gone! I quickly scan the room, still white-knuckling the edge of the counter.  
CAW!  
I jump up, forgetting about the bird.  
"Christ!"  
I quickly relax my body and begin to breathe heavily. Slowly, I let go of the counter, yet I cautiously keep my guard.  
"My God. That didn't just happen."  
Taking a seat on the edge of the bed, I sit quietly with both hands in between my legs, squeezing my thighs together hard. Something feels amiss. That face. I've seen that face before! I forgot all about the bird. The raven stands on the floor, watching my reactions. Soon enough, I spoke the words Woekey was waiting for.  
"It's the same guy!" I look at the raven. "It's the same guy that gave me the heebie geebies a while back in the lunch room! And ...and I've seen him ... here, before. Here."  
CAW! CAW!  
Woekey's response snaps me back to reality and I feel much more at ease. It's presence made me feel safe, for I was not alone.

Loki's eyes remain open and fixed upon the pages which rest over his eyes, smiling with great approval. He stretches out his arms and folds them back onto his chest.

The rest of the night, I remain hyper alert. I kept the raven in my room overnight and never did the raven motion to leave me. It was quite content on staying indoors, strutting his feathers like a pimp on the floor, the top of the chair, and now on my bed. Just before I lay down under my covers, I pat the left pillow three times, call forth his name, and the raven hops to the pillow, relaxes, and nestles its beak under its left wing.  
"That's my boy. Such a good bird.", gently stroking the side of its neck.  
"I really appreciate your company.", I whisper.  
I fight to keep my eyes open for as long as I can, indulging my eyes with Woekey's silky black feathers. Soon after I lose my battle to the night, Loki appears under his cloak by my side. He looks down at me and grins, petting my head and speaking into my left ear.  
"Heal with your hands, Jules. Heal yourself or another. This is a gift bestowed to you, my dear."  
Loki lays besides me a little longer than he cares to, for he cites the human stench similar to rotten meat. But with each visit, he feels more protective of me. He views my abilities as an asset. With every stroke of his hand upon my head, he whispers into my ear to remind me of my talents: fly, disappear, heal. Over and over, his reminders drift thru the ear canal and prods the hippocampus. Ever so slowly, my memories stir and my dreams return to the old chase and run scenario of armed men wanting my flight abilities.

Loki lifts the book from his face, stretches his arms out, and smiles upon the open pages of Stryka's destruction. Sitting upright in the chair, he flips thru several pages and then closes the book. Sif watches him well, noting his movements upon his wake and placing the book back on the shelf. Sif's pleased to find Loki heading for the meal hall, for she was famished. It's Saturday morning. I quickly rise to a sitting position, look at the pillow and the foot of my bed to see the raven is missing. I don't react in shock but feel more accepting of Woekey's disappearance. I lay back down and allow my body to slowly awake. My rhesus monkeys come to mind and their incredible ability to decipher what lies behind a concrete wall. Since the new year, we have accomplished a great deal on the telekinesis project. Rose is putting her presentation together, for in four weeks it will be the first week of March and our work to be sold in front if the same panel of big wigs. Because I'm the peon, I've been given fair warning of a layoff, once the presentation is complete. To be honest, I'm looking forward to the time off. I need it to discover who I am. Dreams of men in black chasing me as I fly has become a nightly fixation and all too familiar. I've stopped using my bank card since I rediscovered my vanishing ability and been using the dirty cash from the mom and pop stores. B.O.D. also has their dirty fingers on my bank account, and advised Moose by week four of my lack of usage.

It's a week into February, yet with todays high temperature of 68 Fahrenheit feels more like early Summer. I take out my lawn chair from the greenhouse and sit outside to soak in the warm sunshine. My Sudoku book is handy, as well as a tall glass of iced sweet tea. On a warm day like this, iced sweet tea is in order. I work thru several puzzles and then hear the love if my life call forth his arrival.  
CAW! CAW!  
He's flying above the front of my building, gliding forward to land upon my rooftop. I stand up in a cheer, smiling profusely at a sign of good fortune. I was so delighted to see that bird again! I exclaimed my joy in his name.  
"Woekey!"  
Just then, in the blink of an instant, a sliver of silver whisks thru the air with Woekey appearing to take a direct hit. My eyes widen, horrified, as I witness him loosing altitude and flutter erratically. I howl in horror as he tumbles down from the air, struggling to keep flight. Just as he falls, I quickly turn my head to the left and look across the rooftop. A male figure with a long black braid down his back re-enters the rooftop door across the way. I quickly run thru my apartment, down the stairs, and to where I believe Woekey fell. I look between every car parked street side. Nothing. I walk around the cars. Nothing. I even look underneath the cars. I back up to the front of my building and look across the street and down both sidewalks. Nothing. I don't hear a bird in distress either. I stand in udder disbelief.  
"This is not happening! It's not real! None of this is real!", I yell forth with hands in fists.  
Several strangers walk by and scrutinize me visually yet shower me with internal questions. _'What's wrong with her?' 'What's the matter?' 'What's she freaking out about?'_  
"Did you see a black bird fall from the sky?", I ask in desperation and only receive frowns and snickers.  
More strangers pass and watch me anguish, moving between cars and investigating the air. I can feel their distrustful emotions of myself, forcing me to retreat into the protection of my niche. I question my sanity and whether I actually saw Woekey get killed. I back up to the door and look around one last time. Back inside I shut the door and lock it with hands shaking, loosing my composure and cry like a child lost, unwanted ...forgotten. I fall upon the bed and let the flood of tears soak into my pillow. I'm scared, confused, and distraught. Who was that man whom killed my friend? And why?

Loki was lying on his bed, when he was making an attempt to fly to Jules. Just as the thin blade whisked by, a fraction of a second was all it took to nip his upper right bicep. Immediately, he brought himself back to Asgard. Loki recognized the man whom attempted to kill him as Migizi, or whom most call Migs. He laughs hysterically, enjoying the thought of Migs failure for a while longer in silence. As he rubs the thin cut, a new plan is set in motion to retrieve her pendant back from the All-Father's loving collection. He wants to harness her power thru friendship. He wants an ally. A folk tale alleges he's part Styrka thru his mother, and the stone Jules once wore was created by his ancestors. He truly feels they'd be a good fit to conquer Realms, Worlds, or what he sees beneficial to himself. However, the pendant now lies within the The Great Room of Token, along with many other powerful artifacts Odin and Odin's father collected. To take the pendant out of the room without notice will be a strong challenge. A smile stretches a mile wide with thoughts of his brother, Thor.  
"Ah, yes. My loving brother. You and I must carouse ...like old times."


	11. The Calm Before The Storm - Part Five

Sunday does not come with any welcome. I awake to crusty eyes, swollen from both a lack of sleep and tears, and pull the covers over my whole body to hide from the world. I'm emotionally distraught. Depressed. I don't want to look at the world today. The time is a quarter past noon. Had I not needed to use the bathroom to pee, I would have remained hiding under my security blanket. Moving about is helping to push blood into every sleeping capillary and bringing me to feel a little better, yet I'd rather tuck my miserable ass below and remain unseen under my comforter. It's ridiculous. I can't go on like this. Such dolor. It hurts. I feel a tremendous urge to flee. To run. To escape my torment.  
 _'The moment I find my killer, there will be blood to spill.'_

I proceed outside to enter the greenhouse and spend a good hour with my friends. I groom, adjust, water, and eat the gifts upon vines and branches. I take care of my family and in return, they take care of me with nourishment and unconditional love. I walk back to my kitchen with a zucchini in hand. Sautéed zukes in olive oil and leftover white rice sounded pretty good. I place the zucchini on the cutting board and grab the four inch long knife out of the drawer. I was cutting even slices, when half way thru I accidentally cut my thumb. I got it good by a half inch. It bled immediately.  
"Damn it!", I howl and flinch from the throbbing burn.  
I move the faucet handle to cold, lower my bleeding left thumb into the sink, and watch as my blood mixes with the clear water. Like cleaning the red paint out of a paint brush under running water, it would turn transparent red from time to time. The cold water eventually constricts my vessels, slowing the bleed. I grab a couple sheets of paper towels, fold it three times over, and dab the laceration. I can feel my heart in my thumb, cursing me for my clumsiness. I lay the paper towel over the cut and place the palm of my right hand over it to apply pressure. With my forearms, I lean on the kitchen counter to rest. After a minute has passed, I slowly remove the paper towel and examine my left thumb.  
"Wait a minute. What?!"  
The cut is no more! It's just not there or anywhere! Quickly, I move to the sliding door for extra light and closely examine my thumb to find a lack of injury. Not a scratch, a lift of dead skin, or markings! I look back at the counter in shock, then at my pain free thumb. With hands open and palms up, I stare down my flesh in fear. First I discover an ability to disappear, then read emotions, and now heal?! Impossible! At this point, I truly believe my mind lost it. I brew hot water for a green tea fix, for it's moments such as this which requires caffeine to ease the nerves. As I wait for the kettle to whistle, I look at the kitchen knife and ponder dirty little ideas. The knife easily takes its place into my right hand, and as I rest my left forearm onto the countertop, the sharp steel presses against my skin. I wince loudly as I push down just enough to break the skin. The cut is not nearly as deep as the thumb wound, but enough to make it cry. I take the right hand and place it palm down over the cut. Just as the kettle screams, I slowly lift my right hand and analyze the skin. Red is smeared graciously upon the forearm, but I see no wound. Taking my right index finger and rubbing where the cut should be, I find a smooth dermal layer.  
 _'This can't be! Maybe I should cut myself deeper to triple check.'_  
I pour the hot water over the tea bag, which sits in one of two coffee mugs I own. Why I have a second mug makes no sense for I never have company. Perhaps it was a subconscious purchase. Today would be a perfect day for company. Today would be a good day for Woekey's visit ...damn the murderer!  
"DAMN HIM TO HELL!"  
I fling the hot mug at my front door and watch it disintegrate to unmanageable pieces.  
"Fuck! ...I'm going to kill that motherfucker!"  
So much for a spare, second coffee mug.

Monday morning rolls around with the alarm pestering me to rise with the rest of the city. I'm still depressed. I call into work and leave a voice message for Hal Pal not to pick me up and to let Rose know I'm staying home. I remain under my comfy covers until 1pm. Again, I only get out of bed because I needed to piss. I slide right back to bed and cuddle under the covers. There I lay, wide awake, until 4pm. The cell phone rings around 4:30pm, but I ignore it. It was Rose. I let it go to voice mail. "Hey, Jules! Just checking to see how you're feeling. Hope to see you tomorrow. Okay. Bye.", says Rose in her usual monotonous but cheery self.  
I make a light dinner of cold turkey, lettuce, and provolone cheese on a slice of bagel. I'm emotionally drained. So much so, I don't even have the motivation to feed myself. The night is lonely, silent, and darker than usual. I'm still reeling in hurt from witnessing Woekey get slaughtered and dissapearing from my life. When I close my eyes, I see nothing. No images. No dreams. It's pitch black. I finally fall asleep at 3am.  
My alarm awakes me at 4:45am. I drag myself out of bed at 5:15am. Both mind and body curses me for such a brief moment of sleep, as I dress behind the shoji screen. Hal Pal is prompt, as always, and fall back to sleep in the back seat.

Rose and John are happy to see me into work yet concerned of my condition. I appear drained and distant, with bags under my eyes.  
"Jules? You look terrible. Go home.", says John. "I actually feel much better. I'll be alright." _Liar._  
Work is making for a wonderful distraction and keeps me feeling sane. I very much welcome it. I'm so busy catching up with yesterday's work, I have zero time to think about my troubles. Lunch came quickly and I welcomed it. I needed to sit down and relax a bit.  
"Shit, I'm in a meeting in an hour? Since when?", I complain. "Conference Room Blue. Huh. John? Do you know what this is about?"  
"Not a clue. HR is on that floor. I know there's been some changes in policies."  
This meeting appeared on my laptop calendar within the last twenty minutes and the lack of warning really upsets me. It's cutting into my scheduled session with rhesuses #1  & #3. I expected Rose to share the same complaint, but not a peep leaves her.  
The Conference Room is two floors up, and unlike my floor I find the hallway finished with drywall and paint. There's no concrete walls, no exposed color-coded piping or wiring. The hallway is also dead quiet, which sets for a sour mood. I read the tags outside the doors and find "Blue". I think someone shot me in the head, because I stood staring at Bruce's back like I just died. Should I strangle Bruce first and then vanish to flee? Vanish, slice his throat, and then run? Or just fucking run. Away. Like, right now. The clicking sound of the door closing behind me shatters my options.  
"Take a seat, Ms. Harper.", says Bingo.  
I do so, but with great distance from Bruce.  
"No, no. A seat away from Dr. Banner. Please."  
He won't look at me, but he did get a quick glance. I look exhausted, the skin tone of my face is pale, and my eyes appear lost. I can feel his emotions of dread and it's oozing out of his skin. Full of uncertainty, guilt, and fear, I fold my hands over my lap and share my attention with Bingo.  
"You feeling alright? I understand you were ill yesterday.", asks Bingo.  
"I'm feeling well, thank you." _Liar, liar._  
"I want to apologize, Ms. Harper, for a recent misunderstanding in our policy of employee relations. You see. Dr. Banner is contracted with us on a high level project and part of the agreement is no contact with B.O.D. employees, unless the employee has a designated part of the project. This includes outside of work. Where we, B.O.D., failed was the fine print. It does not denote 'contractors'. Only employees. When we found out about your relationship, we asked Dr. Banner to cease contact. We were wrong in doing so. Please accept our apologies."  
I curl my fingers upon my navy blue dress, absolutely angry this is why I am wasting my precious telekinesis session.  
"Jules? I'm really sorry.", Bruce says softly, looking at my hands.  
"All this time. All this time I blamed myself for our failed relationship. If you expect us to return to where we left off, you can continue fantasizing. I've moved on. As for BlackOps? I find this meeting very troubling. You really find this a priority? I'm putting off a valuable telekinesis session with my subjects to hear this?" I stand up and lower my brows to Bingo. "Are we done here?"  
"Yeah. We're done."  
I leave without another word. In the elevator I stare at my reflection on the metal door, imagine my fist putting in a sizable dent to destroy my image.  
"How did it go?", John asks.  
"A glorified waste of fifteen minutes of my life. I'm going to stay late to make up for lost time. I really want to put in a session."  
"No problem. I'll log it. Rose won't mind.", he says with a wink.

"I know her well enough that she'll never open back up to me. It'll take a miracle.", says Bruce to Bingo.  
"Get creative. We need an insider. If you can't win her back, we have someone else that can get inside her niche."  
"And who's that?"  
"Migs."  
"Give me two weeks."  
"You get five days."

I didn't want to look at anyone in Vendoland. I sit with my back against the room, plug my earphones in, and tune into This Will Destroy You. I work in my Sudoku book, after eating my cold lunch. Into the first song, I begin to feel someone's emotions over the music. I looked up at the wall, remove the ear piece out of my right ear, and listen. I assumed someone in the room was talking loudly, yet I don't hear any conversations. No sooner I replace the ear bud back in, I feel random emotions tug below my ribcage. I pull both plugs out and left them out this time. As I work on the puzzle, I feel a vast surge of emotions race thru my chest. A woman's heart pours forth with words such as "gateway... opening it... troubling". I sense she's working on a project which had become more challenging than expected and is terribly frustrated. I turn my torso around clockwise, just enough to see who's in the room. I see a woman sitting in the far left corner. I recognize her, for she typically sits at that very table with one to three other people. I turn back around and return to my Sudoku. Upon solving a couple more boxes, I hear a fleeting, whispering emotion of a male voice, saying "don't trust... aim... knows". Despise and mistrust flows from him, making it clear he doesn't trust people easily. I look up at the wall ahead, keeping the pencil pointed onto the page of my puzzle, and I feel another message. "She knows." It muzzles my chest, screaming self defense. I don't turn around this time. I'm afraid that if I do, I might see the guy who's sitting near by, may fit the description of Woekey's killer. I keep my eyes to the puzzle and draw random circles on blank areas of the page, while I consume the random emotions from the room. Not every emotion followed with a message. Just the mere fact I can feel or read such personal information so secretly just made my life even more fascinating. As I walk toward the door to leave, I looked at the man sitting closest to me. His hair is in a bun, braided, and black.

Migizi. His father was half Cherokee Indian and Irish, where his mother was full Maori. Both perished in an automobile accident with Migizi surviving with only bumps and bruises, still strapped in the infant car seat thirty yards from the scene of scrap metal. His father was an only child with no surviving extended family and the State didn't bother to notify kin in New Zealand. By the time his distant relatives knew of his situation, he was seven and been broken thru the foster system. A relative flew to the states to meet him, was shocked by his behavior, and left Migs behind. The first two families fostered him for the money and expressed little love or compassion. The third family had too many foster children to care for, believing it was God's will, and therefore received little attention. The fourth family were of loving nature, but at the age of six, Migs found it difficult to relate to nurturing parents and refused to speak a single word the entire year. At seven, he picked fights on the school grounds and won every time. His final foster family discovered handmade weapons hidden under the matress of his bed. That's when the State sent him to live the rest of his youth in a boy's home, nestled in the Shawnee National Forest of Southern Illinois, called Meadowbrook. It was here he befriended Jaques, the camp English and History teacher. Jaques was also a former Navy Seal, having served twelve years as a top sniper and well versed in a variety of martial arts. Jaques basically made Migs what he is today: a perfected assassin. His thought processes flows beautifully, with grace, and moves without a hiccup, much like a highly skilled Russian Bloshoi dancer.  
Migs loved heights and often climbed trees for a peace of mind and a clear view. At seventeen and three weeks shy from his legal age to start a new life in the Navy, he fell fourtyseven feet from an elm tree, breaking his back. The metal rod in his back disqualified his entry. Not all was lost with his future, for Jaques recommended college to study law enforcement. He agreed to it, went to Southern Illinois University, and Jaques paid his tuition. Jaques was much like a father to Migs and understood him better than anyone at Meadowlands, for his mind worked much like his own. Jaques saw potential in Migs as a tactical fighter and a mentalist. The metal rod may have kept the military from witnessing Migs true potential, but life works in mysterious ways and Jaques is a true believer that everything happens for a good reason. Upon Migs graduation, Jaques set him up with Blackwater as a Diplomatic bodyguard.  
Migizi. Twenty two years old and blown to bits by a landmine.  
Migs sat in the passenger seat of a souped up and heavily armed black Escalade, escorting the Secretary of State and his translator. A minesweeper lead the pack, followed by the newly elected President of Afghanistan. A shoulder launched rocket stuck the second vehicle, front passenger side, killing Migs friend in an instant. When the minesweeper began firing in the direction of the shot, another rocket flies forth. Initially aimed at Migs vehicle, it was redirected at the minesweeper, injuring the three soldiers inside. It was all up to Migs to defend the lives he was trained for. As the Secretary of State called for backup, Migs took out twenty nine Taliban fighters alone and could have added a handful to the tally had the Marines not showed up. Bloodied with a bullet in his top left shoulder and and exit wound on his right torso, he walked with pride toward to convoy, raising his rifle high in a cheer. It was his ego which changed his life forever. It was his pride of kills, defending his country's top diplomat and a President of a war torn state, which made him who he is today. His right foot felt a click, his eyes widen at the notion of what was to come, and with every inch of muscle and energy he had left to give to save himself, he leaps forward with forearms covering his face.  
When he arrived at a Naval medical camp with a mere heartbeat left in him, an unknown man dressed in BOD attire injected Migs with a serum filled with flesh repairing nannites and a specialized dose of epinephrine. He lost both his legs above the knees, his right hand nearly sheered clean from the wrist, barely hanging on, and his chest was riddled with bits of metal and melted sand. The nannites sealed his open wounds to stop the bleeding, restoring his blood pressure, and was flown to BlackOps-R medical research facility in New Mexico. He slept under tight supervision of watchful eyes. Top surgeons, medical scientists, and a personal troop of skilled nurses kept him company. Nine long months, he slept.  
BlackOps saw his potential early on and viewed him as a future asset and super soldier. As he slept in a medically induced coma, he was retrofitted with state of the art bionic tungsten carbide legs, right hand, and strengthened his back with a new titanium rod. The nannites remain, making him the only self-healing super soldier in the World. Over a six month period, the nannites regenerated flesh over his bionics to make him appear whole again, having bonded to his DNA and taking over protein directives. His aging process ceased, making him quite the spectacle to a woman's eye. Youthful, well built, and an exotic flare of light golden flesh tones with green eyes and long black hair always gets the woman he wants to bed him. And if she's difficult to swoon, his menalist tricks always win.  
He also has a titanium testicle. The lead Surgeon couldn't stand the thought of Migs with one less testicle lost, especially after what he did to save Diplomacy from somersaults had either the Secretary of State or the President of Afghanistan died in the ambush. A hollow titanium testicle was made and engraved with his kill count, the date, and location of the event. Balls of Steel. Migizi O'Hara.  
Considering BlackOps reinvented Migs, they owned him and he had no qualms over the notion. Jaques disagreed wholeheartedly and after the third elongated fight at home, it would be Migs last sight of Jaques. For the next ten years, he worked missions alongside a variety of Government agencies around the globe to haul in 'unknowns' or kill if ordered. He lived much like Jules; secretive, discreet, simple, and alone. He bought land in New Zealand and built a small home to spend time away and diffuse from his rigorous work. When he read Jules Harper's file, he was intrigued a female lived much like himself yet. The only difference between him and Jules is she's classified as an unknown. His specialty.

I phoned in for a Thai dinner pickup from Pal Hal's car. Hal is the best. He will even let me grab take-out after work. Tonight I shall have veggie curry. I sit at the table with food in hand and fumble the fortune cookie with my left hand. I still have a lot of curry to eat and normally wait to open the cookie to read my fortune after the meal, but not tonight. I crack the cookie in half by closing my left hand around it snd pull out the tiny white rectangular paper: SOMEONE WANTS TO BE YOUR FRIEND, DREAMS OF BEING YOUR PARTNER.  
"In bed!", I declare with glee. I laugh loudly for none of the fortunes ever make any sense, which makes them so worth reading.  
After dinner, I waltz thru my greenhouse. A small clay pot holding a sad looking tarragon plant catches my eye. I pick up the pot, and examined the nearly dried leaves. The soil is damp, so it wasn't thirsty.  
"How odd."  
As I place the pot back onto the table, I wondered if I could heal it. Just like how I healed my cuts, maybe I can do the same and restore life. At least I can try, right? If anything, it would either prove or disprove that I can heal at all. I wrap my fingers around the damn clay pot, close my eyes, and imagine the tarragon plant restored to health. Healthy green leaves. Strong little twiggy arms. A happy plant. I leave my eyes closed, heavily exert my thoughts upon the plant for a good minute, and begin to hear ruffling sounds from all around. I slowly open my eyes to a great shock. I'm flabbergasted! The tarragon plant is bushy and alive! But it was what I saw next that blew me away. My mouth fell open.  
"Hoooollly shit!"  
With wide eyes, I see that ALL of my plants are healthier, greener, and full of flowers, fruit, and vegetables! I gasped at the incredible sight, slap my face hard and wince from the pain.  
"No way. No. No fucking way I just healed everyone. No."  
I quickly looked back at the tarragon plant and then to my hands, baffled sick with my Ego dancing in the streets. I raise my open hands closer to my face. A deep cry of pleasure rises to the surface and I begin to laugh with joy! How awesome is this, I thought!  
 _'I have the power to heal!'_  
I settle down a bit and take a seat in the lawn chair. I lean back, prop my feet onto a box, and place both hands behind my head with a smile only the Devil could understand. In the accompaniment of my friends, I share a loud cheer, on and off.  
"Incredible! Just fucking unbelievable!"  
Heimdall also smiles along and passes the word to the King. _'Her memory is returning.'_  
Loki gets word from Thor of Jules rebound, along with the rest of the clan. Odin is not certain Jules would become a danger without the pendant, but he's not taking chances. Thor is instructed to keep him informed of her progress by Rachel, Heimdall to keep his eyes and ears open for possible dangers, and as for Loki? His mischievous nature and potential to rouse Jules' memory to the surface was set aside. Loki's next plan is now set into motion, feeling certain this is a sign for him to set forth his move to steal the pendant.

I went to bed, still feeling very giddy. I curled up into my favorite fetal position. Normally, I sleep on the right side of my bed, facing the night stand and ready to leap out of bed at a moments notice. Tonight I lay on my left side, which put me in the center of the bed. I pull the blanket up to my face with my right hand and hold it in place over my nose ... and I dreamt away. It was a lovely dream. I was flying over a beautiful island, full of tall green, reed-like grass and purple lupines everywhere. I didn't know what island this was, but it was irrelevant. In my dreamland, Loki appears as a raven, flying high above among the other half dozen ravens. In my bedroom, he stands to the right side of my bed, kneels alongside my back, and presses his gaze upon my face. With his left thumb, middle, and index finger, he gently strokes the brunettes back. With his right hand he touches my right hand, still clenching the cover tight, and lightly rubs the skin with his thumb. Quietly and softly, he speaks to me.  
"Fly, Jules. Walk among your kind in secrecy. Heal yourself and those worthy of your touch. Soon enough, my brother will fall to his knees begging for mercy! For I will reign Midgard with you by my side. We shall make a formidable team!"  
He disappears and I continue to dream of myself on a treeless island, surrounded by jagged volcanic mountains and the Pacific deep blue cold waters. I take flight and soar high above NORPAC Hill to join the ravens in their circle and dance along in the brisk Aleutian winds. It was this very moment I remember the island, its significance, and shout to the birds in glory.  
"Home! I'm home!"

I awoke, feeling very refreshed! I haven't felt this damn good in a very long time. Both Thursday and Friday my spirits are high, and as I hum away to my fingers clicking upon the black keyboard, Rose studies my behavior. My happy self is unusual. It's very unusual, and especially at work. Rose isn't much for conversation, having a dry personality and a lack of interest in others. But my cheery self made her chuckle, leaving the comforts of her leather chair, and stands aside me.  
"I haven't seen you so happy. What's going on?"  
"Oh, nothing."  
"Nothing?"  
"Really. No good reason kind of nothing. I did get a lot of sleep the past two nights. You know. Feeling refreshed.", smiling away at my monitor.  
"You were having trouble sleeping before?"  
"For the past week or so."  
"Well, I'm glad you're feeling better."  
Rose really is a rather bland and dry character. She gets to the point and ends it. She's like a flower that's refuses to open for the birds and the bees. Don't get me wrong. She's been a great boss. No complaints, here.  
I finish my work day with a quick verbal 'goodnight'. My loyal juvenile macaques in their golden and cream tones, run and chase each other at play as Jose begins to shift them from the their outdoor exhibit to the holding cell filled with fresh straw bedding and a pile of sliced watermelon.  
"Good to see you in high spirits, Jules.", he says with an honest smile.  
"Yeah. It's been a while."  
Rhesus #5 is by far the sweetest one of the bunch and loved my company. While Jose leaves the staging area, #5 reaches out its left arm thru the dark silver bars to grab my attention. I locate a piece of monkey chow and place it into his hand.  
"DON'T TELL anyone, okay? Our secret.", I say with a strong smile.  
The macaque drops the chow and reaches out for me again. With lips curled back and teeth clenched, he makes a 'tsh tsh tsh' sound by exhaling through his sharp teeth. I was just about to open the door, when he began the desperate call. I turn around to see #5 reaching out as far as he could toward me, fingers outstretched to me as if his life calls me forth. I walk back to see the treat on the floor, hand it to him, but he smacks it away.  
"What's wrong, buddy?"  
I look out the window of the door, see an empty office, and quickly return to bring my right index finger to touch his reaching left hand. The macaque grabs my finger with its small warm fingers and holds on. His eyebrows rise, eyes widen, and he sucks his cheeks in to make his lips pucker.  
"What's wrong? You've never acted like this before."  
A few more seconds pass, and #5 lets go of my finger to return to the far left side of the cell, not before grabbing a slice of watermelon.  
"That was weird."  
I pick up the uneaten snack and return it to the container.

The last few days of work were uneventful. A small party was thrown on Monday to celebrate another sell and buy to the big wigs. Our hard work, in a short amount of time, is well received in Discovery. Cake, baked goods, and a catered Italian menu buffet of roast beef, pasta, and chicken ptarmigan fills the air. Still in good spirits, I chat with strangers stopping by from neighboring departments. The common topic of discussion: What are your plans? I never put much thought into it. I haven't been looking to replace my job with another in BlackOps-D. With my invisibility, healing, and not empathic powers, I've been busy thinking what to do with it. And my supposed memories of my past keep haunting me. Work? Frankly, I'd rather not.  
 _'I should take some time off. Rediscover myself. Maybe travel. The farther, the better.'_  
Despite our research now complete, Rose wants me to continue with sessions until next Friday, fully recorded for prosperity and training of the macaques' future handlers. The six will be shipped to BlackOps-Research in New Mexico. As for rhesus monkey #5, he never again reached for my attention. Early Wednesday afternoon, Rose is on the phone with someone in Genetics. She was making all kinds of "Ooohs" and "Reallys", followed with an "Impossible". I'm sitting at my desk, wrapping up with observations into an Excel spreadsheet. She stands up, walks to her door, and shuts it. My curiosity peaks. Genetics draw blood from our rhesus macaques every Monday morning. They're trained to place their left arm into a PVC tube and hold onto the bar at the end. An opening in the tube allows the phlebotomist to draw blood.  
 _'What did they find?'_ , I wonder.  
The door is shut tight. Her walls are also sound proof, for I can't hear a word.  
"You did run a second series ...oh ...oh, I see ... That's medically impossible! You're absolutely positive your scan is of #5?"  
Remember when rhesus #5 reached out to me Friday? The monkey sensed I could heal. Don't ask me how it knew. It's not like I'm advertising my services. It's no surprise #5 would know of my ability, for he had early stages of brain cancer. The tumor had not yet impacted any language, cognition, or motor skills, yet it was clearly evident in the scans and thru blood work. By holding my finger, I inadvertently healed it. Rhesus #5 did't have any blood work since Monday. However, all of the monkeys did get their monthly MRI body scan on Tuesday morning. The tumor was no longer visible. Gone. Poof!  
The rest of the work week went smoothly. Nothing really to report. Well, I take that back. Rose was much more quiet than usual. I'm not the type to pry. I minded my business and worked as usual. Rhesus #5 never asked for my attention this week. All of the monkeys behaved like they do. That is, nothing out of the ordinary. Like I said, it was a smooth and uneventful work week. Further testing was done on #5. The brain cancer was confirmed gone and the research group wants answers of the impossible. Rose met with the supervisor of Genetics/Research Thursday to discuss the secondary round of testing results from Monday and Wednesday on rhesus monkey #5. My name came up. My known abilities were well documented, thanks to Stark. The question arose to whether it was possible I may have intentionally healed the animal or unknowingly healed it. In her opinion, Rose said the possibility was very high.. However, she questioned whether I did so willingly and sided on believing that I was not aware of my ability ...hich she was partly right. The monkey sought me out for help. It sensed my ability. I answered its calling. I helped. It was decided to leave the alert at Condition Bravo, until further notice, and Migs was ordered to keep a closer distance to me on a daily basis.


	12. The Calm Before The Storm - Part Six

Friday night, soon after I walk into my place, I get a call from Jose inviting me out to Haggard's.  
"We haven't talked in ages! C'mon, Jules. My wife's giving me a hall pass tonight. How about it?"  
The bar's about six blocks away. I'm in a pretty good mood, so I accept the invite. I walk inside and scan the room. The booths have walls for backs along the walls, making it difficult to see faces.  
"Are you meeting someone?", asks a young female server.  
"Yes. Jose. A co-worker."  
"All the way in the back."  
Back? Like, where? I get to the back, but I don't see him.  
"To your left, Jules."  
I turn and see Tony Stark up against my left shoulder, smiling, and he escorts me to the far left corner. As soon as Bruce comes to view, our eyes meet for a fleeting second, and I quickly turn around to leave, but Tony stands in my way.  
"Please move.", I say in a low tone, eyes to the ground.  
"Not until you share a beer with us."  
"Fine. ONE beer."  
Tony directs me to enter the booth first, which I am reluctant to do. It's a strategy to keep me from leaving. Tony sits to my left and Bruce is directly across the table with Rachel to his right. I keep my hands folded upon my lap and eyes on the table. The top is made from the wood floors of an old bowling lane and heavily shellacked in amber.  
"First off, thank you for responding to Jose's invite. Please don't hate him. You have to work with the guy. Hate me instead. I asked him to set this meeting up.", says Tony.  
I keep quiet with my eyes on the old lane.  
"Second, don't hate Bruce. Or me. Or Rachel. Especially Bruce. He's been in dire straights since Moose ordered the no contact."  
I fumble my fingers together, uninterested in the apology.  
"That night you showed up at Bruce's, he vented his anger on his bedroom. You should see it now. The contractor did a hell of a job rebuilding it! He's got this gorgeous built-in bookcase, a flat screen to watch his shows in bed ...".  
Tony's voice carried a little too much enthusiasm and Bruce eyed him to quit. I begin to contemplate whether to share my disappearing act and bail, for I give two shits what Bruce did with his place. Yet, it would be unwise and only bring them to me at home or the Men in Black I dream of to my front door.  
"I'm really sorry, Jules. I don't know what else I can do or say to make this right.", Bruce says in desperation.  
He's hurting. My God ...he really is in bad shape. His emotions pour forth like a broken spigot, torn over the bond we formed in less than a weeks time. Our relationship had promise. It was strong. Now? So much change has happened in my life since we stopped seeing each other. I'm a different person, now. The waitress stops at our booth and takes our drink order. Everyone states their drink but I.  
"Make that two.", Tony says of his drink. "Have you ever heard of Leaky Taylor?" I assume he's asking us all the question, so I keep quiet. "Well, of course you have. Anyway, I have a proposal on my table to go in and fix the ongoing leak. It's only 450 feet deep, but buried in 100 feet of silt and mud. I've done work at fifteenth hundred feet, but this? It's going to be a challenge."  
He's testing my memory, but I don't know it. I sit confused to why he would even share such information to me. I look at my fingers, fumble my dress nervously, and pray the drink comes soon. Tony shares a defeated look at both Rachel and Bruce.  
"Sooo. How did you two meet?", asks Rachel.  
"It was at Dilly's. No. Well, I first met her at DESS. I stopped to see Jose ...".  
My mind wavers and my gut tells me he's lying. We met before this. As he continues to speak, I tap into his emotions and immediately flash back to a scene at Borders. I watch myself asking Bruce a question, holding a book to him, and his lips move but I can't hear a word. Then I see us standing in an aviary, sharing a kiss. THIS was our first kiss!  
"Jules? You okay?", asks Tony.  
I snap out of my daydream, see the tumbler with whiskey on ice in front of me and drink it all down in one shot.  
"That wasn't the first time we met. Was it?", I ask towards my glass, still in my right hand.  
"Uuuuh.", responds Bruce.  
"Yes or no."  
"No."  
"What else are you not telling me."  
"What do you mean?" Bruce is getting nervous.  
"Never mind." I look at Tony. "Thanks for the drink.", and scoot up to his left leg, nudging with obvious pressure I want out.  
"My best friend had to crash at my place for two weeks, all because he demolished his bedroom in an angry tirade. The fact he couldn't console you and tell you the truth, when you stopped by, shattered his world. His existence. I had to deal with a crying man for five days straight. I don't know what you went thru, Jules, but I imagine it was no different. I'm sure you suffered to some degree. And one other thing? You haven't had that beer with us yet."  
Tony delivered his speech with gusto and his eyes locked into mine, just to be sure I got the message. Bruce demolished his bedroom? How in the hell ...I recall Bruce telling me he has little patience for traffic, making me think he also has a temper. But why would he tear up his bedroom? The atmosphere surrounding us all sits still, as the three await a response from me. I think about the night I lost my cool.  
"I broke a plate.", I respond quietly.  
"How did you break it?", asks Tony.  
"I threw it at my front door. With my dinner.", moving away from Tony and back to the wall.  
"What did you have for dinner?", asks Rachel.  
"Steamed salmon, white rice, and green beans in buttered panko.", looking down at my hands upon my lap.  
"Such a waste.", jokes Tony.  
"Woekey cleaned it up, so I guess it was good.", tilting my head and smiling lightly.  
Bruce and Rachel look at each other with concern, and Bruce asks the inevitable.  
"That bird still shows up?"  
I snap with fiery eyes and seethe in return.  
"That bird happened to be the ONLY dependable friend I had! If it wasn't for him, I'd be in the nut house! I had no one else to share my burden with! And if it PLEASES you, the raven is DEAD. Happy now!? He's dead!"  
Oh the tears. They flow out of me like a monsoon, flooding the valleys in between my closed fingers pressed against my face.  
 _'Fuck you, Bruce!'_  
As I had my head lowered and covered, Bruce makes his way to sit next to me. I feel an arm wrap around my right shoulder, gently, and a light squeeze of the hand for reassurance. I assumed it was Tony, until I rest my head into his upper right shoulder. His scent brings me to recall our tryst in bed, our kisses, of us sleeping together without the sex. His energy swirls inside my chest, holds my heart, and I openly admit to my true feelings. I want to grip my hands onto his back and fall into his chest, but I also want to beat the living shit out of him. I choose the later, pushing him as hard as I can out of the bench seat. His face fills with surprise as I follow him to the floor, straddling him with hands swinging mercilessly open-handed to slap him. He allows me to strike several times, blocking me with his open hands, and then grabs both wrists with eyes so narrow they pierce my mind.  
 _'Stop ...it's okay to be angry ...I don't blame you.'_  
I slump forward, drop my head with hairs surrounding my face to cower my failed fight, and struggle the following words thru my salty wet lips.  
"I missed you, Bruce! More than anything!"  
He pulls my hands to his head, releases to hold me tight around my back, and kisses the top of my head. He expresses the same.  
"You have no idea how desperate I've been, wanting to hold you in my arms. I just didn't foresee us on the floor of a bar to do it."  
I grab his shirt by the sides and hold on for dear life with a light laugh. I don't ever want to loose him again. Ever! Bruce looks up to Tony and whispers, "Thanks." I felt better, after a good cry upon the center of his chest, and stayed another two hours to chat with that beer I promised to drink. I asked Tony what he meant by Leaky Taylor, but he said not to think much of it for his suit isn't designed to dig thru wet mud as it is. As we make our leave, Bruce and I share a long hug.  
"I'd like to walk you back to your apartment."  
"That would be nice, but I don't want to go home just yet.", clasping my hands together against my chest.  
"Okay? What would you like to ...".  
"Your place. To talk.", I say quietly towards the ground.  
I sit still with my eyes upon the nightlife passing us by, thinking over my decision to tell him about my abilities. I want to share them so badly, but I'm afraid. I know I can trust him, yet my inner gut screams for me to hold. When the garage door shuts behind us, my mind begins to scramble in anxiety. I also begin to worry I appear desperate for his company.  
 _'What am I doing? Okay, okay. Breathe. Don't run.'_  
It was his confident hand, taking my own as I left his car and leading me to the second floor. His touch pacified my nerves. As we enter his living room, he hands me a set of photos he took of the damage to the bedroom. My eyebrows narrow and my mouth rests slightly open in shock.  
"How were you able to do so much damage? Did you use a hammer?"  
He chuckles a bit and stops me at a photo showing a bedpost piercing the walls. I immediately look at him and study his solemn smile upon the picture.  
"Have you heard of the Hulk?"  
"Are you referring to the urban legend of a green, angry monster?", I ask.  
"Yeah. Except the monster is no urban legend. It's me."  
"What?"  
He takes the photos to sit them onto the shelf, holds my left hand, and we sit down on his couch.  
"I keep my anger under control, with breathing exercises and meditation. It's been a good number of years since I lost my cool. And when I do? Well, you can see from the photos what I'm capable of. Only a handful of people know of my true nature, and this includes BlackOps. I'd appreciate it if you keep this knowledge to yourself."  
"I will. Thank you for sharing this with me."  
"It's not something I'm proud of. I hate it, really. But I have to live with it. It's like having a second job. Every day, I work thru meditation and focus on my safety and those around me. I don't loose my patience, nor get angry, like I used to. I'm pretty damn good at taking someone's bullshit or dealing with jack asses on the road. Heh. But meditation comes naturally for me now. Helps me focus in life."  
I should tell him of my abilities, but I don't. My old private and protective self holsters my decision. Bruce expected me to tell him of such, and he sits quietly, patiently. When I say no more and stare at his floor, he knew I was holding back secrets.  
"Did I frighten you?", he asks with a tone of concern.  
"No, of course not.", I say in a shy smile.  
"C'mon. Let me show you the new room."  
I gotta say. The man has good taste in design. A built in cherry wood bookcase along with a flat screen TV faces his new sleigh bed. I scan the books and find one with Tesla on the binding, which brings forth a strong recollection of us meeting for the first time at the bookstore. I pull the book, skim through the pages, and smile at my memory.  
"Ah! One of my favorite books.", he says. It's what he says next which shocked me. "Do you like his work?"  
He should know that I do, based on my memories of our first meet. Cautiously, I return the book to the shelf and study his face. His smile drops, and I sense from his emotion he made an error. His right hand grabs the back of his head, rubs it hard, and his eyes squint to prove it. I back up slowly to the stairs.  
"I just remembered ...I need to respond to Rose's email, my boss, tonight and it's getting late already. So I should be going."  
"I'll give you a ride."  
"No, no. I can walk.", quickly heading down the spiral staircase and to the front door.  
Stupid me for overreacting and blatantly expressing panic to leave him. He knew I was lying and I realized my error. We live five miles apart. Why would I walk home, if I'm in such a hurry to respond to an email? I stop at his door and fold my arms.  
"You spoke to me as if you don't know me, yet my memories tell me you should know." I turn and look at him deeply. "Have we met before? Have we been together, in the past?"  
"I first met you at DESS.", he says with confidence.  
"Then why do I keep getting this notion we've met in a bookstore?", I say in frustration.  
"I don't know. I really don't.", taking his hands and rubbing them against my arms. "Was he good looking, like me?"  
I can't help but to laugh, and he holds me ...presses his head against my own ...my mind quiets down and unwinds ...I give in and hold him in return.  
"What about us meeting for the first time? You said no to DESS."  
"I first saw you in the lunchroom, before I met and spoke to you at DESS.", he says with a warm smile. "You're upset. It's me, isn't it? You're still disappointed in me."  
"It's not you. It's me.", I sigh, taking a step back and refolding my arms ...tighter. "I think ...I think I need to see a Physician."  
"Why?", he asks. "Just ask me."  
"Ask you?"  
"I went to Med school, remember? I had a short run on family practice. And then I approached physics, melded both studies ...and it got me into trouble. You know, the monster within.", he sighs.  
"Oh.", I say holding my ground, lost in thought, confused and frustrated over my failing mind. My memories of my past haunt me, binding my wrists in rope to keep me from pushing it aside, my ankles bound to keep me from running away.  
"Hey.", he says in a whisper, stroking my right shoulder. "Tell me. What's the matter?"  
"I ah ...", grabbing my head, "...my memories. I don't understand them. They're not my own! I don't even know who I am anymore! I've been so irritable. Sometimes I just want to bash someone's head in. I think I'm going crazy, Bruce."  
"Come upstairs. I'd like to do a quick check up, if you don't mind."  
I nod in agreement, follow him to the third floor, and take a seat on a stool. His medical bag opens and he conducts a standard check up.  
"You're in tiptop shape! Can't find anything wrong. Maybe it's work. Stress. Stress can do terrible things to your mind."  
"Maybe that's it. Stress. Or my losses."  
"Losses?"  
"First you. Then Woekey."  
"I see.", he says softly, putting his med bag back into a cabinet. "What you need is a vacation. Time off. Escape the real world and relax. Beautiful weather, maybe a dip in the ocean, clean air, and delicious food."  
I grin at the thought of taking time off work, especially since I only have two weeks left before my layoff. "How does Maui sound?"  
"Hawaii? ", I ask with a curious frown.  
"Take this Friday and next Monday off. We can leave right after work on Thursday, still get there early evening, and leave Monday afternoon."  
"Wait a minute. We?"  
"Well, yeah we. Why go alone?"  
Why do I keep pushing him away?! I take in a deep breath and exhale the negative energy out.  
"You're right. It'd be no fun alone in the sun. Besides, I've never been to Hawaii before, and I assume you have. You can be my official tour guide.", forcing a smile.  
"With pleasure.", moving the hairs away from my sides and examining my lips. But I'm not quite ready to kiss him. He hasn't earned my trust. I tip my head down.  
"I only have two weeks of work left before my layoff. I'll ask Rose for the time off, but I'm not positive she'll approve it."  
"Alright. Let me know by Monday night so I can secure a ride and a place to stay."  
"Sure.", I say with a step back and a smile. "Do you mind taking me home? I'll send an email to Rose. Get my request in writing. She's been pretty busy preparing for the presentation and transfer of macaques to New Mexico. If I call her or ask verbally on Monday, she may forget to look into it."  
He smiles at my request, not at all disappointed of my leave. And as he drove me home, his smile lingered with many direct looks upon my face.

I was shocked just how quickly Rose responded to my email and my request for time off was granted! I immediately call Bruce to share the news, and he in turn calls Tony.  
"Hey bud! Got a favor to ask."  
"Sure thing. Shoot.", says Tony as he tinkers with his iron suit.  
"Can I borrow your jet Thursday afternoon and return it Monday night?"  
"Where are you going?", he says in a curious tone.  
"I'm taking Jules to Maui."  
"What. Skipping the wedding and going straight for the honeymoon? Bruce. I know how much you enjoy living a nontraditional lifestyle, but don't you think this is a bit over the top?"  
"Tony. And no. It's no honeymoon. Look. We did some talking, and from what I gathered, she's stressed. Like, really stressed. Her memories are rebounding hard. I recommended time off ...and, you know, suggested a sunny, warm, happy place."  
"Like Maui."  
"Like Maui.", Bruce returns in a smile.  
"You need a place to stay?", Tony asks, putting down his welding torch. "I can make a call to the Chef."  
"The Chef?"  
"Wi. Chef Norman. A very good friend of mine. He owns a house right on the coast, on the outskirts of tourist traps. The guest house is incredible! You know what? Just for you, I'm going to call Norman.", and ends the call to Bruce.  
An hour later, Bruce calls me back to share news of a plane secured and a place to stay. What he failed to share were the details of our ride and the guest home we'd be staying in.

Saturday comes with a ray of early Spring Fever. The temperature is darn near 80 degrees, bringing the male birds to sing like mad to find a mate. I discreetly grab two grand in cash, most in fifty dollar bills, from three different naughty convenience stores. Off I ride on the public bus to the Mag Mile with a mission to locate and buy a swimsuit and warm weather attire. I end up at the Watertower Place and roam thru Marshall Fields, picking up a few pairs of shorts, tees, and sandals. With no swimsuits catching my liking, I enter Needless Markup and scan the swimsuit selection. A cute black bikini catches my liking, but upon reading the price tag, I share a sour puss smile.  
"For real?!", I gasp.  
"May I help you?", asks a twenty something blonde, looking me down as if I'm completely out of my territory.  
"I really like this, but $480? What, will it swim for me?", I joke, but she found nothing funny about the price and remain stern.  
"We carry the cream de la crème of fashion. Maybe you ought to check Fields or Blomingdales, whom carry generics and less appreciated styles."  
"I did. That's why I'm here."  
"Well. By the sound of your impression to the price of Fromma ...".  
I had just about enough of her snotty ass mouth and cut her off cold.  
"Not all wealthy people, like myself, find a $480 bikini reasonable. However, since I'm taking a trip to Maui on short notice, time is against me. If it looks good on me, my business is yours. So, how about you lead me to the dressing room before I change my mind."  
"Right this way.", she says apologetically.  
I ended up with the simple black bikini and pick up a second burgundy and orange bikini. Just incase. I shuffle out my fifties to pay nearly $1200, since the second bikini cost even more, and as the blonde handed me the thirty dollars in change, I smile.  
"Keep it. Don't ever judge a person like you did to me. Ever again."  
I'm hoping the tip she will associate to her experience, but something tells me she'll just spend my money on frivolous junk and never change her judgmental persona.

My work week flew by like the winds of an early Spring thunderstorm. I stretched my work days two hours later every day to make up for two vacation days and worked thru my lunches to pretty up color graphs and double check the statistical data for our presentation. Both John and Rose appreciated my extra efforts, even with several "It's not necessary" statements, but I stick to the task and finish the work by Wednesday night at home. Bruce knew I was busy with the upcoming telekinesis research presentation and respectfully left me alone. We spoke Sunday, Monday, and Tuesday night on the phone with conversations kept to a minimum yet heavy on our upcoming trip. And when 4pm came on Thursday, I was tickled pink to find Bruce outside DESS' door.  
"Let me take you home. Hal already knows.", he says with that signature smile.  
At home, he watches me wander through the greenhouse, noticing me touch pots and plants randomly. The leaves appear green, fresh, and he sights the heavy fruit and vegetables.  
"Wow. You've got quite a harvest in here!"  
I smile in return, grabbing a lemon before leaving my friends. I grab my travel bag and off we drive ...North of O'Hare.  
"Which airport are we flying out of?", I ask with intense curiosity.  
"Pauwaukee."  
"Umm. What?"  
"We're taking Tony's plane.", he says with excitement.  
"Tony's plane?"  
  
Very few privately owned Boeing 737's exist. A few celebrities have one, as well as the CEO of General Electric, and he flies his family and grandkids everywhere in it. They're literally a private home with wings. I pass thru a hallway with panels of hidden closet doors to house carry-ons and suits. Walls made of paper thin cherry wood with gold trim is everywhere. An open room with a round beige sofa and coffee table is to my left. A mini bar is up against the wall to my right, and four comfy beige leather chairs line up against the fuselage. Each one can swivel and recline. Toward the back of the plane is a bedroom to the left and a large bedroom in the rear, each equipped with its own toilet and shower.  
I sit in the first swivel chair and watch the homes shrink in size as we ascend. I can't remember the last time I was in a plane, but the view of tiny homes, lines for roads, and color changing terrain is too familiar. My memory says I've flown recently or last year. The thought is troublesome, keeping me quiet with eyes glued to the small oval window. Bruce leaves me alone, slouched back into the sofa with white wine in tow. An attendant offered me the same as we entered cruising altitude, but I kindly declined. I just want to be left alone. Bruce takes out Stephen Hawking's book, A Brief History Of Time, and props his bare feet on the coffee table. His watchful eyes rest upon my hairs, hoping for a smile to denote my happy, and after an hour and a half of quiet, he throws a piece of wrapped butterscotch candy at my head. I look for the object, pick up the candy, and eye him in question.  
"Couldn't help it. You're like candy to my eyes. I had to ...". I turn back to the window without a smile to share. "...see your smile. Which you just denied me of."  
I chuckle at his attempt to grab me with words and butterscotch. I unwrap the yellow plastic and suck on the hard candy, turn to smile in his direction, and leave the comforts of my chair for a seat next to him. My right hand meets his chin and his eyes light up.  
"You want to play 'Guess the flavor?'", I ask seductively.  
"I do. Very much.", and wastes no time planting his dark pink lips on mine. His tongue forces its way thru mine, flickering madly to lick the round butterscotch bouncing between my tongue and the roof of my mouth.  
"Mmmph,", I share loudly into his mouth, moving away by leaning back. But he follows with intensity, lashing his tongue inside to steal my candy. One of the two attendants appear to ask if we're ready for dinner and quietly giggles to see us making out. She turns back into the galley and dims the lights.  
"Mmmmmph!", I scold inside him, feeling his lips tighten as he smiles approvingly. With my back against the cushion of the sofa and no where to go, he grabs the hairs at the scalp, gently, and continues to French me hard. I push the candy his way to forfeit, he accepts, and sits back up in a manly chuckle.  
"I said to GUESS, not eat me!", I scorn him, visibly upset by his behavior.  
I quickly leave for the bathroom in the first bedroom and wipe my face clean of our sticky saliva. I lock the door and stare at myself, confused to my anger. I close my eyes to calm the mind and view myself standing in a six foot clearing within a bamboo forest. Old flattened cardboard lies below, greeting me to sit.  
"Why am I so angry? Why?", say above. "Why do I feel the need to run? All he did was kiss me. God, I'm so fucked up!", now crying into my hands.  
The silence is horrendous, giving me chills down my spine like what nails dragging on a chalkboard will do. Then ...I hear something move forward within the bamboo. A dark figure moves my way, and just as Bruce enters from the secondary unlocked bathroom of the hallway, the dark figured man is one of my dreams. Black pants and shirt with a black bulletproof vest holding a variety of small weapons and ammo, and black gloved hands coming for my chest. I turn, scream bloody murder, and hit the shower door. Bruce yells for me to calm as I kick and punch him away.  
"Never! Never! You can't have me!", I scream.  
The two attendants run to the rear, open the hallway door to the bathroom, and watch me fight him.  
"She's suffering from pychosis! Jules! Jules, it's Bruce!", blocking my fists.  
The man's face changes to Bruce and slowly his body disappears. Reality snaps back hard, bringing me to vomit up my tea and a little of my lunch. Bruce comforts me with gentle rubs upon the middle of the back, helping my heart rate to ease back and settle the contractions around my stomach.  
"Please leave me.", I beg, embarrassed of my behavior. "Please go away."  
"Not in your condition, I won't.", helping me to stand. "Easy does it. One step at a time."  
I take a seat at the table with Bruce buckling me in and feel my mind drift to and fro.  
"Water?", I ask.  
The cold fluid extinguishes the embers still burning inside my esophagus and I begin to feel much, much better. The muffled roar of the aircraft engines is now clear, as was well as my mind. Bruce is no where in my visual field, and my anxiety races forward.  
"Bruuuce!"  
My experience of being captured by the Men In Black is a first. I never imagined being caught by the hungry army, let alone by a single man. Bruce insisted on cleaning up my vomit and asked the ladies to watch me.  
"I'll be right there!", he yells to me.

I revert to snacking on saltines in my swivel chair, knees up to my chest and looking out the oval window. Alone. Seems like a common story in my life. The nine hour flight felt like forever. The incident in the bathroom made the flight feel even longer, forcing myself to huddle in the first beige chair alone. Still mortified of my capture and behavior, I avoid Bruce like the plague. My arms wrap tightly around my knees and I tune out to the low roar of the engines behind us. With the jet chasing the sun, it made for a spectacular long sunset. Now, there's nothing to see over the Pacific. Bruce left the lounge soon after dinner to lay his head in one of two bedrooms. He invited me with, but I said nothing. I felt shameful for scolding him at our playful game. It was I whom wanted him to kiss me in such a manner and to share the candy with. Why I became angry, I still don't understand. I'm so fucked up in the head and cold at heart. What does he see in me?

We land around 10pm local, grab our rental convertible, and head to Chef Norman's. I sit quietly, watch the life around us pass, and occasionally look up to see the stars. Bruce respectfully remains silent. Haneko, the housemaid, greets us and walks us to the guest house. As we enter the bedroom, I awe at the lack of walls. The room is open, with sheer white curtains tied to the side. Ahead is a pier stretching over the white sand beach and over the water. She leaves us and I stand to stare at the ocean, mesmerized by the moonlight sparkling on the surface and the aroma of honeysuckle waifs in the light breeze. Bruce picks up one of two leis on our bed and puts it over my head.  
"I just lei'd you. Welcome to Hawaii."  
Beautiful yellow flowers with a soft fragrance brings forward a smile, forcing me to forget my earlier troubles.  
"Thank you.", I say, turning to see his calm demeanor, unfazed by my personal woes. I spot the second lei and place it over his head. "I really know how to spoil a vacation.", I say solemnly.  
"Explain."  
"My behavior on the plane. It was uncalled for."  
"Forget about it. Your vacation officially starts now.", he says, rubbing his right thumb on my chin.  
"You don't have to be nice all the time. I want you to be honest."  
"And I'm telling you I find this to be a non-issue. It's not worth mulling over. Okay?", now rubbing my cheekbone and talking with his eyes.  
"Yeah. Okay.", I answer softly.  
But I'm disappointed in him. I expected a grilling, questions, and words to express his dissatisfaction of my avoidance. I leave him to unpack my clothes, brush my teeth, and change to a white tank and blue boxers.  
"Which side do you sleep on?", I ask.  
"In the middle.", he jokes. "Nah. It doesn't matter to me."  
I lay on the right, along the edge, and face the open midnight air. With hands tucked under my soft white pillow, I pull my knees up tight to my chest and my left foot hangs off the edge. I'm in position for flight, should the Men in Black chase me once more. Exhausted, I quickly slip into my dream and face two dozen armed men running or driving vehicles to capture the prize. A human capable of healing, reading emotions, and flying in dreams is a score worth millions in research. Capturing me is not an option. Bruce enters the bed and is puzzled by my sleeping position. It reeks of insecurity and bothers him like an itchy sweater. Terribly annoyed, he wants to pull me around, straighten my body, and easy my tensions. The nap he took on the plane keeps him up another two hours, watching my body twitch, hearing my grunts and soft moans. He couldn't understand how I get any rest sleeping like a tight ball.  
"It's no wonder you're always tense. Agitated. You're not getting any rest."  
He's right. Even as I sleep, I'm constantly on the run.

The sunlight skips upon the surf, reflecting like millions of mirrors, and I see Bruce walking on the pier, heading back to the room. I roll off, hit the bathroom, and then inspect my outfits.  
"Good morning! How did you sleep?", rubbing my shoulders.  
"Quite well, thanks. The bed is comfy." _Liar._  
"Oh, good. How about some sightseeing?"  
The Haleakala drive and light exploration took half our day, followed with a visit to the Tropical Plantation and an early dinner. During our long drives we only spoke of the sights and not a word about work or "me" came to light. Bruce wants to ensure I relax, enjoy, and diffuse. Little do I know he is doing so to slow my raging hippocampus to surface my past. It's all part of a plan. Everything is part of a plan, isn't it? My employment with a secretive agency, dating a Physicist employed by the same ...my dreams of a secret militia society chasing me, and I don't even connect the dots.


	13. The Calm Before The Storm - Part 7

Upon our return from dinner, we walked hand in hand on the private white sand beach, watching our star set in brilliant orange, red, and purple hues over water. Bruce did most of the talking, expressing how much he loves the ocean and finds it comical he doesn't live next to it but to a fresh water lake. "It's nowhere near the same.", he said, blaming himself for being too attached to the big city life and his best friend Tony.  
"The ocean feels natural to me. I suppose when it makes up for most of Earth's surface, it would feel natural to anyone. Did you know that the Earth and the human body equates to about seventy percent water?", he says with a smile of pride.  
"Amazing, isn't it? We are in fact 'one' with our plant. What we do to ourselves we do to Her.", I say towards the horizon. "If we don't treat Her with respect? She WILL kick our ass."  
"And who's this 'Her' you're referring to?", he asks in a curious smile.  
"Gaia. Who else?"  
Upon our return, a sweet surprise awaits us on the table meant for two. White cake with crushed pineapple and a drizzle of hardened white sauce. The note under the plate reads "Pineapple cake with coconut sauce. Please enjoy! Haneko." It's a wonderful way to end our day, but I feel from Bruce it's not enough to satisfy him. Since our butterscotch kiss, we haven't kissed again. He's doing a damn good job at hiding his true feelings with pleasant conversations and heavy smiles. Yet deep inside his heart I can feel him reel emotionally. He wants more.  
I take my place at the edge of bed, hands tucked neatly under my pillow and head, and my left foot falls over the edge. Bruce huffs lightly with a rough adjustment of his body to face the other way and says nothing. I close my eyes, take in a deep breath, and then exhale my nerves.  
"Bruce?"  
"Yeah?"  
"I'm sorry."  
"For?"  
Wait. Wrong.  
"I mean, thank you."  
"You're welcome. For?", turning around to face the back of my head.  
"For putting up with my crazy."  
Oh, stupid me! That was a stupid statement. But the ball keeps on rolling downhill.  
"I meant to say ... or ask. Why me? Of all the beautiful women available within the city, why choose someone whom doesn't have a clue who she is? Where she's from? A person so ...so confused of her existence, incapable of distinguishing reality to make belief? I mean, these damn memories aren't my own! And if not, whose are they?"  
"One step at a time, right? Relax your mind."  
"I can't relax, Bruce! These memories? They feel real. They feel like my own. My past. Yet ...".  
"Shhhh. You're on vacation, remember?", touching my upper left shoulder, bringing me to effortlessly roll out of bed and to my feet.  
"Is that why you wanted to sleep on the right? So you can leave me?", he asks with a bitter tongue.  
"What? No. I always sleep on the edge of the bed. I've been sleeping this way since High School!"  
I see his expression quickly change from defense to offense, noting the emotions race to find the right words to bring me back into bed. I grab my pillow and hug it.  
"I'm going to sleep under the stars.", and just like that, I left him.  
I proceed down the long pier and lay under the blanket of dark energy, galaxies, and stars. For unknown hours I lay awake, staring at the midnight show, wondering if I was real. If my life was real. What if my memories are those from myself in an alternative dimension, leaking into my reality? If so, what became of my past? Who the FUCK am I?  
The moonlight is strong enough to silhouette my figure and allow Bruce to watch me carefully from the bed. Sitting up, his fingers press and pull against the white sheet as he calms himself in a meditative state. My stubbornness to pick at the scabs of my past worries him greatly. Eventually, I'll get them to bleed and BlackOps will have me locked away in their new observation chamber. He recalls Tony's story of how he first met me and my reasons for living in solitude, expressing great concerns of being discovered by the "Men in Black", to be held captive, out of sight, and turned into a guinea pig. With elbows resting on his knees, he leans his forehead into the palms of his hands.  
"She's already in the lair of the beast and don't even know it.", he whispers.  
BlackOps-D hired me for a reason. Not for my skills. Anyone with a set of brains and basic statistical knowledge can be trained to do my job. It was for my presence. To keep a close eye. Without my memories and knowledge of known abilities, I'm as human as the rest. But retrograde amnesia is sketchy, unpredictable, and eventually the memories will return. Bruce hates having to live a life of a friend and informant. It's against his character, eating away the protective shell which houses the green beast.  
"I won't tell. I can't. Whatever she shares with me, stays." He closes his eyes and smiles, for the inner grumblings of discontent ends. "I'm doing the right thing."  
The muscles of his body eases, but his meditation comes to an abrupt end. His eyes fly open when he hears me screaming.  
Standing near the edge of the pier, I scream to the stars, planets, to the Gods and Goddesses above.  
It feels good. Venting feels so good. I didn't know how angry I was, until I let go. I suppose leaving Bruce didn't help much, but it was the lesser of two evils. To hear him avoid my cries for help with denials of my mental state is much worse than standing alone along a sea of darkness and a sky devoid of empathy, compassion, and opinions. Once I got the ball rolling, it didn't stop. And when it did, it came to an abrupt halt at the pier and exploded with my emotions pouring forth like a raging inferno. I screamed over and over, hands into fists and burning hot from my woes. I delivered a cry for mercy. I just can't live this way any longer. I just can't!  
 _'Answers ...I need answers!'_  
A heavy vibration nudges below my feet, as Bruce walks quickly to me. I feel his condolence reach far ahead of him, wrapping around my depression, soothing my mind filled with irrational thoughts to flee and quiets my lips. He stops behind me.  
"You don't have to go through this alone. I WANT to help you. You deserve your memories. You deserve to know who you are, and I want to be there when you remember. I WANT to help, because I want to be a part of your life. Regardless of any possible burdens I may experience."  
My emotions weave with his own, much like yarn it binds into him and knits to a beautiful wrap of warm hues. It covers us both well. A perfect blend of trust, happiness, and willpower, I turn around and hug him.  
"You don't have to tell me everything. Just what you feel comfortable sharing. Okay?", he says gently into my right neck, followed with a long kiss upon my skin.  
That's all it took. Bruce trusting me, allowing me to share my life at my pace, and that kiss. Then another kiss, but on my cheekbone. It's enough to throw all my inhibitions out into the dark Pacific, grab his face, and kiss his lips like my life depended on it. Clearly, I need him in my life. I was hurting. Living alone for so long was driving me mad. Insane. Desperation led me to build a greenhouse. My wants and needs I tried to appease with my bond to a raven. Who the fuck lives this way? I do. But I'm getting tired. I'm restless. I deserve better. I can't keep running away from happiness. I need to stop running. I want to stay. I want Bruce so badly. So very, very badly. This passion we share CONSUMES me. It's like a drug ...I want MORE of it!  
"I want you ...in ...my ...life.", fighting out my words in between our deep kisses.  
"I need ...you!", picking me up and carrying me back to the lonely bed in a determined stride.  
As he lays me down, I tuck under the covers and move dead center upon the cool surface of the bed with him following close. And as my life's chapter starts anew, I begin the story with a man whose aggressive blood drives him to keep me protected, a dominant mindset determined to rebuild my confidence, and a heart so giving it spills over solace and tenderness.  
As his lips reaches my breasts, I lift off my tank to remove it. When his lips reaches my womb, he slowly pulls away my boxers and panty. Clearly, he's gifted in pleasuring a woman. My lack of relationships brings my current experience to a new found height, for I've never been pleased this way. No one's ever kissed, licked, or suckled my clitoris.  
 _'Christ ...'_  
My nails dig into the sheets as a strong wave crashes ashore. An unimaginable climax climbs up my spine, bringing me to moan loudly with a touch of pain. He removes his boxers, kisses my belly, chest, and then lays to my left. Silently he glides his right fingertips around my breasts.  
"I can't have any children. I want you to know this. The lab mishap left me sterile. And I'm sharing this to be up front. Honest."  
"If it makes you feel any better, I haven't had a period since I was sixteen."  
"Have you seen a Gynecologist?"  
"Never."  
"Jules. This could be serious. There are factors which could ...".  
"What. Lead to cancer? A tumor? If that was the case, would I be here with you now?"  
"Point taken. Were you athletic? Does early menopause run in your family?"  
"Bruce. No. Not that my memories tell me. So ...is this bad? It's been almost seventeen years."  
"Well? It depends on how you look at life. Are you capable of bearing a child? Highly unlikely. Are you willing to accept it? If not, there's always adoption.", he says tenderly with that sweet smile. "I brought condoms.", shying his eyes to his fingers still dancing upon my chest.  
"I don't think we'll need them. Will we?", I whisper with a slow run of my left fingers through his hairs.  
"I'm clean.", he says and plants a hard kiss upon my lips, not even giving me a chance to express the same. But Bruce already knew my health was clean from the blood work completed upon my return from Asgard. My lack of a period surprised him, but it was possible B.O.D. didn't test the specifics of my hormonal levels. With my healing powers, should Bruce carry a pathogen, it wouldn't affect me. Call it careless and stupid, but my Id took over and followed through with his desire.  
Slowly, he lay over me.  
Slowly, his groin moves into position.  
His legs push away at my own and I raise my knees to accept his overture. The tip presses forth on target and then slips away. Again, he tries to enter yet unsuccessfully. I immediately lower my right hand, sensing his struggle and slight embarrassment.  
"Let me help.", I say quietly, returning his smile upon my eyes.  
I hold his hard on and figure he's of average size. I don't really know what an average penis size is. I just figure he's not, well you know, huge or long. Just right, perhaps? And as I hold the head above my door, he presses down to only slide away.  
'Maybe if I wasn't so damn wet, this wouldn't be an issue!', I scold myself within.  
I hold him once more, with a firm grip, and look deeply into his sugar brown eyes. I can feel the pressure of its head between my tender labia. As his ass cheeks tighten with a forward push, a strong pain courses thru me. It felt like he tore the door wide open. I let go a strong wince, grab his shoulder blades, and slowly move with his rhythm. The gentle discomfort is like a sting, and his strokes aggravate it. As he increases his rhythmic thrusts, his tip converges on my cervix ...he hits it so well, so perfectly and on target. A sudden rush of heat escapes from my chest, bringing forth a birth of sweat. It beads away from my forehead, my chest, and my loins. A surge of electricity blasts from my heart to the muscles holding his dick. Another climax, just as strong as the first but longer in duration, roars within.  
 _'Fuck ...OH FUCK!'_  
"Oh my God!", I cry out a few times in between my moans. Why I shouted that particular phrase kills me, but it didn't matter to Bruce. If anything, he accepted my response for he fucked me even harder. The sting was long gone after I came and his continued thrusts brings me to climax again. Christ, his stamina! I didn't shout for God, this time. I screamed Bruce's name.  
He had fucked me with his eyes upon my face to savor my expressions of pain and delight, planting kisses into my neck, face, and left ear. But as he reaches his limit, his right hand grabs the hairs above my head and his left hand presses against the mattress. A grunt carries out with each thrust and I feel his dick harden. He yells at the wall, pushing as deep as he can with my hands appearing to promote his stance by holding onto his shoulder blades and then slowly dragging my nails across his back. I can feel a new pressure hitting my cervix. His cum, full of blanks, ends my life of privation. And when it was all over, he rests his forehead on my own, gasping through his flushed lips, and smiling down upon my face. I had no idea I cried, until he wipes the wet trails away with his thumbs. No doubt they were happy tears, for they were unrecognizable.  
Quietly, we remain locked in position for an extended time. His eyes glaze over my own, expressing his love for me in secret. He teases my hairs, my cheeks, and passes a soft kiss now and then. I run my fingertips up and down his back, from the shoulders to his butt cheeks, noting every muscle and rib bone I pass. His dick, now limp, slides out of me naturally with the sting returning. He's had eight partners. I've had two. For me, this was the best sex I've ever had. Bruce's love for me made his experience the best he's had and the fact I'd been untouched for so long made it more meaningful. My grasp around his cock was strong. I was tight. And when he entered me, he felt a tear. Curious, he shifts to lay along my left and looks at himself.  
"Jules?"  
"Mm hmm?" My eyes stay closed and my mind is bathed in elation.  
"How many partners have you had?"  
"Two. Why? Did I do something wrong? It's been a while. Was it my legs? I didn't have my legs open enough, did I? I'll try to ...".  
"No. No, you were ...beautiful!", he smiles with his right hand caressing my face for reassurance. "You did nothing wrong. It's that, you're bleeding."  
"WHAT?!", rising up to see the light streaks of blood on his penis and the pale skin of his groin.  
"Oh my God! I just started my period! Damn it! Oh damn!", getting out of bed and hurrying into the bathroom. "Talk about poor timing! All these years I've gone dry until now?!"  
As I wipe away, I notice the bloody smears in my wetness appear like blood from a small wound. A tear. The ...sting. I slowly walk out of the bathroom and look at Bruce in shock. My healing ...I've had this ability before. My hymen healed from my last sexual intercourse, twelve years back.  
"I ...I don't know why. Or how.", speaking to the floor in obvious befuddlement.  
"It's not your period, is it? You ..you a virgin?", he asks with slight unease and concern.  
"No! I lost my virginity at sixteen! I had sex in college at twenty! So NO I'm not a virgin!", angry he would ask.  
"Okay! Okay, I'm sorry I questioned it. It's just. Well, are you okay?", rising out of bed and walking toward me. "Did I hurt you?"  
"I'm not hurt. It was wonderful. It felt wonderful! Truly! I'm okay.", looking away in shame.  
How embarrassing!  
 _'Pleeeeease tell me my hymen doesn't repair itself each time. My God, please DON'T. I don't want it to heal! Please don't heal!'_  
I begged, over and over, pleading for it to remain undone. Even as we spooned, I prayed silently. I begged and pleaded until I fell asleep. I was thankful not a drop of blood fell upon the white sheets. How embarrassing that would've been.

Today Chef Norman's long time friend Matsui takes us out on the ocean of his private vessel and points out some of Maui's famous views only seen from the water's edge. Twice, we anchored near shallow waters to snorkel. A vast number of fish swarmed near us, and we saw everything from an octopus, sting rays, and sea turtles. Then, he drove us by a waterfall none of us will ever forget.  
"Lover's Leap. It's considered Maui's most desired suicide location, based on holding the highest death count of over 800. And that's just an estimate starting from the 1940's. From the leap it's 227 feet from the ledge to the rocky beach. No one has ever survived the Leap. Most jumps occur around Valentine's Day and the major holidays. Others around anniversaries, the death of a loved one, or breakups. Lately, the count includes job losses and soldiers returning from Iraq or Afghanistan. It's so sad."  
As we near the cascading waterfall, Matsui continues.  
"I've had to respond to another Captain's distress call, about three years ago. I was coming up this way, carrying guests, when a lady took her life. Thank Pele, we didn't witness it. Five years before, I did see a man jump. It's something you never forget. Like being ingrained in your mind, you know? Forever. Yet it's the rule. If you pass and see someone on the ledge or witness a jump, you must stop and call the Coast Guard. I pray our pass is uneventful."  
Matsui slows the boat as we near, to see the beautiful foliage and spray of fresh water from the fall.  
"The fresh water allows plants unseen elsewhere in the world to grow on the rock face. It's a plant Biologists playground!", Matsui exclaims.  
"It's beautiful!", says Bruce, standing behind me with his arms wrapped around me.  
"Bruce? Someone's up there.", I say with concern.  
Both Bruce and Matsui look closely but see no one.  
"Where? I can't see anyone."  
Matsui reads my face and stops the boat. They couldn't see the woman because she was running to the ledge. Her fear of failing to take the leap pushed her to run, and as she jumped, she screamed in horror. I felt her despair as she pushed her body forward, well before the leap. Her screams to fix her error squeezed my heart with such urgency, I immediately recognized her plea and scream with her.  
"She doesn't want to die! She doesn't want die!", shaking Bruce's arms. "She changed her mind, Bruce! We need to help her! She changed her mind!"  
"There's no changing One's mind.", Matsui says after making a call to alert of a suicide.  
"No! She lives! She lives, Goddamn it! We need to help her!", I yell to them both. "Get us to shore!"  
"There's no shore! The surf's dangerous, filled with sharp corals and glassy volcanic rock! We wait for the Coast Guard chopper to retrieve the body."  
"No! She's alive! She changed her mind. She changed her mind!"  
I recalled suffering the same fate. I saw myself falling alongside her, but I stopped midair and hovered. She didn't. Bruce hugs me, holds my head with his hands, and says reassuring words into my right ear.  
"I'm going to her. Stay here! Don't follow!"  
He dives into the choppy dark waters and swims to shore.  
"Bruce! It's too dangerous! The rocks will eat you alive! ...damn it!", Matsui yells and radios the Coast Guard. "I have a man swimming to shore ...".  
I begin to dance on my feet, fearing for his safety. Images of deep cuts all over his body jar my visions, leading me to jump into the waters and follow.  
"No! Don't follow him! Aye!", and makes another call. "I have a confirmed jumper on the ground and two adults swimming to assist."  
Bruce controls his temper just enough to bring forth his monster to skim the dermal surface, making his skin impenetrable. The six-foot surfs toss his body around like a bath toy and after three attempts to swim ashore, he breaks free from the angry sea. He scrambles to the woman lying on her right side, listens to her chest, and hears a gurgle. As I near the beach, I feel an abrasive graze on my shin. Instincts bring me to lower my left hand below, open-handed, and shout "Protection!" An orange sphere surrounds me, unseen by others, covering me from the devastating volcanic rocks and coral below. The surf tumbles me viciously, unforgiving, seven times before I make land.  
"Bruce!", I yell, running to him and the woman.  
"What the Hell?! Jules! I said ...how the ...aren't you hurt? You alright?", checking my body carefully and noting my smooth skin untouched. I hurry to the woman, see blood around her head which exits from her right ear, and hold her left hand.  
"I'm here! It's okay! I'm here now. I heard you. I know you want to live ...".  
"Jules!"  
"C'mon, now. Stay with me!", my lips lowered to her left ear.  
"Jules! Don't. She's gone."  
"No! I won't allow it! I got a second chance! She deserves the same, damn it!", I scream at his face and return my eyes upon her ashen body. "C'mon!"  
My left hand holds her cold right fingers and I lay my open right hand over her head.  
 _'Heal! Heal, damn it!'_  
A surge of heat builds within my chest. It's so hot I have to close my eyes to focus on directing the scorching heat away from my heart. The burn travels down both arms and into my hands, drifts onto the woman's head and thru her left fingers. Had her Soul not stuck around for my work, my attempts would have been futile. But she knew. Somehow she knew I could help her and refused to enter the light. Bruce places his right hand on my right shoulder to empathize but retracts his hand and seethes.  
'Her skin is blistering hot!', he says to himself.  
He remains quiet, realizing something out of the ordinary is occurring. He looks at the woman's face and notices her lips are no longer blue but red, the skin of her body a dark tan instead of ashen, and her chest is moving ...she is breathing! He drops to the other side, taking her pulse from the neck, and speaks to her.  
"Can you hear me? What's your name? Hello?"  
I move my open hand slowly down her arm, to her hip, and then close my hand. The fire within settles and I open my eyes to see her green eyes staring back at me.  
"My angel. Angel ...".  
"What's your name?", Bruce asks.  
"Lori."  
"Help is in the way, Lori. I need you to remain still and quiet."  
Ten minutes later, a chopper arrives. Bruce waves at the rescuer in the bucket, and when he lands, the man questions the scene.  
"Who jumped?"  
Lori raises her left hand.  
"Am I seeing this right?"  
Bruce nods yes with a great smile.  
"This is a first for the books. I'll need to return and get the board." The bucket is for retrievals, not survivors. Lori is sent up first, chatting effortlessly about her angel, then myself back to the Matsui's boat, and then Bruce. Lori's sitting up on her own, clearly cognizant, and answering all questions with no issues. Had she not, we'd all be flying back to the hospital with Matsui alone in his boat.  
Upon our return to the guest house, we shower separately, change, and head to the Luau for dinner. Bruce avoids our experience at the waterfall, noting my happy self. I was chatty for a change, pointing out to anything interesting and expressing delight to the local foods at dinner. It was on purpose. It's a distraction or an avoidance to what Bruce witnessed me perform on two levels: swimming ashore unscathed and healing a dying woman. During the show, Bruce gets a call from Moose.  
"I got to take this call. Excuse me.", he smiles and answers as he walks to a quiet location.  
"Let me guess. You're at a Luau."  
"Yes we are. What do you want?"  
"The suicide jumper. Tell me about her."  
"Well? The gal jumped. We responded, and found it a miracle she survived."  
"No, Bruce. This was no miracle. It was a supernatural intervention. Here. Let me read what the Docs found: Traumatic brain injury with evidence of both blood and clear fluids inside and out of the right ear canal, cerebrospinal fluid inside her nasal passage, signs of prior skeletal fracture to her right cranium including cheek bone, eye socket, and jaw. All healed. Right shoulder was dislocated. Right humerus and radius exhibits signs of past trauma with bruising throughout the arm ...".  
"Okay, okay. Jules was with me. She was holding the woman's hand."  
"You're to advise me immediately of any action taken by Jules which meet the criteria of supernatural."  
"I saw Lori's survival as a miracle. Miracles happen all the time. There was no evidence that I saw from Jules she did anything to heal the woman."  
"I expect a full report of this incident on Wednesday.", and Moose ends the call.  
"Shit."  
Bruce pulls out a disposable magenta cellphone and calls Tony, explaining Jules knowledge of the woman's attempt before she was seen, her hot skin, the healing, and the miracle she swam ashore without a nick.  
"She assumes you know nothing of her ability?", asks Tony.  
"As far as I can tell. She's been in a really good mood since the incident. I promised her I wouldn't pry and allow her to share her mind when she's comfortable and ready."  
"Smart move. Sooooo. How's the pipe? Did you knock out those cobwebs yet?"  
"Tony."  
"Just askin'.", he smirks. "I'm rooting for you. Go team!"  
Bruce returns, apologetic for taking so long on the phone with an explanation of the Coast Guard following up on their paperwork. After dinner, we walk the shops in Lahaina and he spots a jewelry store.  
"Do you mind? Tony wants me to check out the pearl rings for Laura."  
"Sounds like fun!", I cheer.  
I scan the rings with him, pointing out certain styles of simplicity. I don't know her well enough, but Bruce insists she likes lots and big.  
"Really? She seems more like a simple woman. Like me. You know, like that single pearl ring. That one, there.", pointing to a white Mikimoto pearl with three small diamonds on each side.  
"What about the pink pearl?", he asks.  
"They come in pink?", questioning the ring.  
"I see you've spotted The Empress ring. It's a one-of-a-kind Mikimoto. A conch pearl, which is rare, with 0.35ct diamonds set in platinum."  
"Rare. So like, expensive, right?", I ask with curiosity.  
"It sells for $65,000.", says the Jeweler.  
I gasp a little too much. "Yikes."  
"I'm actually looking for a ring for my friend, Tony Stark. It's for his wife. What size is this ring?"  
"Ah! For Mr. Stark! Indeed.", he says with a smile, removing the ring from the display and checking the tag. "Size 7."  
"What's your size?", Bruce asks me.  
"My size? I ah. No idea. I don't wear jewelry. See?", flashing my bare fingers to him. He grabs my left hand and presents it to the Jeweler.  
"You and Laura have nearly the same size, physique-wise ...".  
"No, she's much more petite ...".  
"Just try it on.", he says charmingly.  
It slides on to my wedding finger with ease, just a half-size too big. To witness such an expense upon my finger feels downright ridiculous. If the pearl wasn't so beautiful ...okay, okay. If the ring itself wasn't so damn beautiful, I'd say "Hell no." But Hell yes, she'll would LOVE this ring!  
"It's amazing. Laura will LOVE it!", I gasp.  
"It's a half-size big. You're ring finger is a 6 1/2.", says the Jeweler.  
"Can it be resized by tomorrow evening?", Bruce says, winking his right eye out of my view to Mr. Waltson and quietly wording 'for her'.  
"Indeed. A simple process. I personally make the adjustments to all Mikimoto jewelry."  
Bruce hands him his credit card.  
"Thank you, Mr. Banner. I will be back in a moment.", taking the ring with.  
"Well. That was simple! Glad we found something nice for both Tony and Laura. Considering he's jetted us here and put us up in a nice guest home?"  
"He's paying for it. Don't think he'd accept such a gift from me. Money is a non issue for Tony."  
"Thank you very much. Please share with Mr. Stark that I appreciate his investment, Mr. Banner.", sliding the credit card and business card across the glass counter. On the back of the card it reads, 'It will be ready after 1pm tomorrow. We are open to 3pm.'  
We walk through several shops, picking up pastries for breakfast and a cute floral cover dress for my bikini. When we return to the house, I remove my dress and his nimble fingers unlock my bra.  
"Thank you?", I joke.  
"Anytime.", kissing my shoulders.  
Tonight he didn't have any trouble pushing his dick in, and I didn't feel any discomfort nor did I bleed. My prayers went answered, thank goodness! Imagine if you had to lose your virginity each and every fucking? Honestly? I'd go celibate. That's just damn right creepy. And for the first night since the armed men began chasing me in my slumber, I dreamt of nothing. I had the best piece of sleep in a long while.

Sunday, we stayed back to swim on the private white sand beach and relaxed in the sun. Bruce read a book under a beach umbrella and I snorkel most of the time. Bruce makes a call to the Jeweler, sets a pickup, and has the ring delivered to the guest house. All this takes place as I have my head underwater, watching the colorful fish brush against my hands.  
 _'They know. They know I can heal. Amazing!'_

For dinner, Bruce set up a reservation at Gerard's. Exquisite French food, the caramelized pork tenderloin was incredibly flavorful and the crème brûlée was rich! After dinner, we take a walk down the private beach, hand in hand, and watch the sunset.  
"Sit down. Please.", he says timidly. I take a seat upon the white sand with him and he holds both my hands.  
"I'm telling you this from my heart. With complete honesty. Jules? I've never felt so attracted to anyone like I am to you. You move me in ways I cannot explain. Your unselfish act to help Lori? You risked your life to help a stranger and ...I was really moved by your desire. You saved a life today."  
"It was nothing, really. I did nothing to help her.", I shyly say.  
"Your presence was her motivation to live. You kept her alive."  
I'm surprised he isn't questioning how she survived and if I had anything to do with it.  
"You tell me you don't know who you are, but I know."  
I lower my eyebrows and shoot him a look of concern.  
"You are compassionate. Kind. Generous. You instill a desire in all living creatures to live and succeed. I see it at DESS with your cute monkeys. I see it in your greenhouse. I saw it with the raven."  
The raven. Now he got me to tear up.  
"What I'm saying is ...I REALLY enjoy spending time with you. I enjoy your company. And, I want to be a part of your self-rediscovery. I promise you I will not get in your way. I promise you I will not press questions. I promise you I will be truthful, honest, and open to your ideas."  
He takes a ring out of his shirt pocket, grabs my left hand, and slides The Empress upon my ring finger.  
"I promise you, with my heart, to be trustworthy. This is a promise ring from me to you. I pray you will accept it.", now holding my left hand into both his hands.  
My mouth falls open, as soon as I recognized what he held between his fingers. How slick of him to ease me into a jewelry store and fall victim to a prank. Am I this gullible? I feel so stupid to have believed him. A ring for Laura ...no, no. No! Wait. No, that's not why I feel stupid. The fact I'm blowing frigid air over The Empress is stupid. Why am I so damn cold? Why do I insist on fulfilling my past desires of returning to my old ways? To run. Hide. To live in secrecy and unnoticed. Why do I constantly feel this dark need to protect myself?  
"Jules?"  
Bruce is concerned. I had drifted in heavy thought for too long and my silence is unnerving. I place my right hand over his own, still holding my left, and speak candidly.  
"My past ...or what I believe is my own, is filled with loneliness. Sadness. I lived alone for a long time, hiding from society. My family. My friends. I feel I was doing so to protect myself. From something. Someone. Who or what, I don't know. I'm still trying to figure it out. But my lack of social skills explains my behavior. My being cold to you. Not trusting anyone. If this was my past life, then I want nothing to do with it! It feels miserable, Bruce. The visions of my past frightens me!"  
I rub his fingers and stare at the beautiful pink pearl.  
"I'm afraid to lose you because of who I am. I don't want to believe any of my memories are real. That they're my own."  
"You won't lose me. I'm not going anywhere. Not without you.", he says with determination.  
"Are you sure? Pardon my bluntness, but aren't promises meant to be broken?"  
I swallow hard. That was harsh. Subconsciously, I begin to rub his fingers harder as to keep the ice from my body proceeding forward, to touch him or the ring. Friction ...heat.  
"That was cold.", he says in a tone that could crush my frozen heart to dust. "I'm being straightforward, Jules. I always mean what I say. Don't let these so called memories dictate who you are not. Stand up to them! Break down this barrier!" He moves in close, wraps his left arm around my back and his fingers press firmly into my upper left arm. "I struggle with my past every day, yet I found a way to deal with my enemy. You need to find a way to deal with these memories. Meditation, exercise, a hobby ...".  
"I saw myself leaping off a rocky ledge, much like Lori did, when I was a teenager. How, exactly, is a hobby supposed to keep a memory like that from surfacing?"  
"You were empathizing with her."  
"NO! What I experienced was REAL!", moving away from his touch. "The difference? I was given another chance. I didn't HIT the ground like she did!", angry he won't believe me. "I should be dead, Bruce. I need to find out why I'm still here. Who gave me that second chance."  
"God."  
"No. I don't believe in a God. I can reassure you, it's NOT God."  
"God works in mysterious ways.", he says with declaration.  
"Then God is an asshole. Why allow the 800 and some lives perish after leaping over the edge? Why save ME from impact? Is it fair to pick and choose who lives and who dies? If so, then God is a sadist."  
Bruce rubs my hands together several times and lets out a loud "huh".  
"I never viewed God the way you described Him. You have a valid point." He watches me toy with the ring with my right fingers, rotating it lightly over my ring finger. "Soooo. You haven't answered my question yet."  
I smile hard and even let out a couple of giggles.  
"Yes. I accept." He moves in to plant a kiss on my head, just above my right ear. "And I will work hard to be forthcoming. To share my concerns. To accept your help." Another kiss reaches above my ear with his left hand pressing my head into his lips.  
"We'd better head back to the house, or we'll be blind as bats.", he says, helping me to stand. And he's right. The sun had long set beyond the horizon and the waning moon has yet to rise over the mountain for natural lighting.  
As soon as we step into our open air bedroom, his confident nature brings him to nurture my inner desire for love. Love ...a word I sincerely don't understand but yearn to experience more of each day. As I sit above him and take control the outcome of blissful spasms I want, I notice the sting never returned and his entry effortless once more. Clearly, I'm able to decide what I want healed. It's not instantaneous.  
 _'Blessed be ...Eir, Goddess of Healing, I thank you.'_  
I grasp his hands for support, helping me rise just short of the head from leaving my snug passage. Harder, I wrap my fingers around his solid hands. Tighter, I clench his shaft. Faster, my pace accelerates along with my increased heart rate. The soft, luminous nightlight reflects upon my wet skin, sweating profusely due to my performance. His stamina holds, solid as a rock and much like his manhood. I tilt my hip slightly to the left, his crown finds the sweet spot, and his name erupts from my lips.  
That's all it took to break his staying power. His name in my voice, along with the grip of his hands in mine, and the tender hot flesh squeezing, twitching around his cock. His beautiful brown and salt-peppered hair leans back, deep into the white pillow. His eyes shut hard as he releases himself into me. A deep bellow escapes him, more like the cry of a warrior who's celebrating a victorious win. Once the mêlée is over, I lay down on his chest to mix my sweat with his, kiss him gingerly along the neck, and end it with a soft peck on his dry lips. By surprise, he turns over to the right, bringing me under his weight, and kisses me slowly along my collarbone. A confident brush of my hairs to the side with his left hand leaves me feeling beautiful. His deep stare into my eyes brings the weight of his world into my heart.  
"You are incredibly hot! Man, you turn me on!", he professes.  
"Oh, stop it.", I chuckle.  
He presses his lips against my left ear, tugs the lobe once, and very softly says the words which I starve for.  
"I love you."  
My fingers stretch in and out into a fist, repeatedly on his back, as I savor his words echoing inside my head. In slow motion, I watch his stubble face move into view just twelve inches from above. My right hand ascends to his chin, my index finger dances against his dark pink lips, and I beam at his mouth ...chanting in my head 'say I love you'. Instead, he parts his lips, harnesses my fingertip, and suckled it tenderly.  
"You taste good.", he says, making me giggle.

Construction on the Glass House is nearly complete and a weeks worth of work toward final prep and testing awaits. It's BlackOps only high security holding cell in the Midwest, aside of those at BlackOps Research in New Mexico and Raven Rock. Chicago's lakefront has a designated portal with high traffic, making the holding cell a priority. Moose's pride runs high on this project, for it has the latest state of the art monitoring, security, and comforts for the observer. He's looking forward to its first trial with Jules as his subject. She's considered a 'high risk unknown', due to her multiple abilities, and this excites him. The security tech research team, led by Rachel, was given magindre, a gift of anti-magic metal from Thor. Made by Hraidmar's exceptionally skilled metalsmiths on Nidavellir, it's spun into thin strands and set into the glass viewing windows so not to disrupt the view of the subject. It's also woven into the concrete floor. The captive will be allowed to use magic within, but it will not pass outside the room. Life support systems for the holding cell lies below the concrete floor. There's a holding tank for waste below the bathroom, and the water for the showers and sink is recycled to prevent an escape thru the sewer line or water pipes. A self-replicating power generator from Stark Industries supplies the room to prevent an escape thru the electric cables. As for the atmosphere within the room, it's similar to the ISS and creates oxygen via electrolysis. However, not all 'unknowns' can handle Earth's high Nitrogen content or water vapor and this can be controlled to suit the needs of the subject. The Central Command Room, situated dead center of the East end viewing panel, controls the room via wireless relay. Every electronic device and wiring is shieldED for EMP bursts. The only item in the room is a king size white futon, which lays almost dead center. The subject has use of a single white sheet and two pillows, all made with flame retardant materials. Nothing else exists.  
Dr. Banner's contribution is the futon itself. Within the bedding lies an assortment of sensory electrodes to collect biological data, including a specialized radar imaging grid to map the subject's internal structure. It's ultrasound and MRI-like technology in one, minus the use of magnetic manipulation. Should a medical emergency arise, or the subject becomes a danger to self, "KO gas" is released into the room.  
The room haunts Bruce. Terribly. So much so, he's been having trouble sleeping. He's tried to come up with rational ideas to hide Jules. He's even shared them with his closest confidant, yet Tony returned with flaws unseen in each of his schemes. It's posed a challenge with a tight time constraint, but both are willing to break BlackOps protocol: no one may knowingly harbor an "unknown" without directive consent from BlackOps Command. It's equivalent to harboring a known felon, except much worse. With her monitoring condition at "Bravo", Migs was assigned to oversee Jules visually, armed to kill at any given notice. "Do not kill Jules Harper, unless absolutely necessary.", Moose instructed him. Bruce knows Migs followed them to Maui. He spotted him paddle boarding a half mile south of the beach yesterday. With a set of binoculars handy to watch Jules as she snorkels far from the beach, he recognized Migs' signature bun and braid. Keeping the traditions of his Native American and Maori people, he doesn't cut his hair and usually has it set in a long fishtail braid or braided and bunned with a foot hanging below. Bruce has no hard feelings against Migs. If anything, he appreciated his distance and undetectable skill. What he doesn't care for is having an assassin, armed to take his girlfriend out at a moments notice.


	14. The Calm Before The Storm - Part Eight

To make it back home by dinner, we head to the airport by 4:30am for a 5am departure.  
"Good morning! Did you enjoy your stay?", asks Bruce in a joyful mood.  
The two pilots and two attendants begin to express their gratitude, bringing me to raise my eyebrows at him with amusement.  
"Wow! That's really generous of you! Maybe I should be working for you, instead!"  
"Don't give me any ideas.", he chuckles. But it WAS a great idea, Bruce thought with excitement! Why not employ her? BlackOps wants him to keep an eye on Jules anyway. Employing her after her job's done at DESS may be the answer. Moose has many unknown subjects at Site R he can use to test The Glass House with. The idea uplifted his spirits, and once the plane reached a cruising altitude, he takes her left hand and stands up.  
"It's a long flight home and breakfast isn't ready for another two hours. How about we rest our heads a little?"  
"Sounds like a good idea.", I answer. The plane has two bedrooms and we enter the larger room toward the rear. He closes the door, begins to strip naked, which then leads me to playfully curse his idea.  
"I wasn't advised this 'rest' was to be textile free.", I snicker.  
"It's a requirement in joining the mile high club.", now unzipping my dress.  
"You can't be serious!", I laugh, nearly in hysterics to his idea.  
"Why else would Tony have a bedroom built into his plane?"  
"Oh, TMI! Your mind is as rotten as his!"  
I squeal with delight as he lifts me up and lies me down on Tony's love bed. The thought of Tony and Laura making hanky panky here turns me off, but it only takes two minutes of Bruce's serenade to change my mind. His constant steamy short bursts of words, roughly spoken into one ear or the other, changes my stance. He set the naughty words on a bait hook and I bit down. Hard. I consumed the intense passion, starved for it, and I craved seconds. For the first time, I tasted him. It would be the first I swallowed a man's salty finale. It was also bizarre I could taste a hint of the steak he had for dinner last night.

Tony met the plane at Pauwaukee Airport, interested to hear how our trip turned out in person. Bruce suggested dinner together, but I kindly decline. I want to get back and tend to my loving and much missed greenhouse. This only excites Tony, for now he can grill his best friend mercilessly. That's exactly what he did over his sashimi at Masaki's, and Bruce told him everything, including the idea of hiring Jules as an ... Administrative Assistant.  
"I like the idea. Why didn't we think of this?", asks Tony.  
"We're Scientists. Our minds operate on the basis of scientific methodology. My probable ideas were too, you know, complicated and clearly unachievable. And here, she came up with a simple solution. Moose has a number of subjects at Site R he should be using to test out his handy work. Why Jules? I don't get it."  
"Good question, but you'll need to sell your idea straight like your life depends on it. It'll be a hard sell, Bruce. Moose doesn't play well with people who try to alter his ideas."  
"That's what I'm afraid of."

For missing two days of work, the number of emails is staggering. Most are carbon copied conversations of the upcoming Thursday Telekinesis presentation between Rose and Joni Forrest, the Director of DESS, whom I've never met in person. But one email catches my attention. It's a meeting request with both the B.O.D. Commander and HR Director Norman Sanibel, today at 10am.  
 _'Standard procedures for my layoff.'_ , I make myself believe.  
I had brainstormed ideas of what to do after leaving BlackOps and travelling Europe came to mind. I can buy an unlimited Eurotrain pass and hop around for two or three months. Money isn't an issue, for I've saved up plenty of my paychecks to get me by on rent alone for three years. With my abilities, cash is a non issue anyway. If I do travel, I will pay for my needs. I would have to play it safe and show I'm actively overseas through purchases. As for Bruce, he'll just need to he patient and trust I'll return.

9:55am and I'm lost.  
 _'This hallway stretches a mile long!'_  
I'm on the right floor, but each door tag I cross doesn't read Commander Michael Wavell, aka Moose. I sight a gray suit exit a room ahead and grab his attention.  
"Excuse me? Could you direct me to Commander Wavell's office?"  
"Oh. That's easy. His office is literally the last door down this hall."  
"Geez. Maybe a people mover would be nice.", I joke.  
"You know? That's been suggested."  
When I arrive, I take note his door is black, unlike all the others brown doors on the floor. I knock twice. Norman opens it.  
"Hello, Ms. Harper. Please come in."  
The office is enormous, holding a conference table with eight chairs and several flat screens on the wall to my right. Ahead, Moose sits behind his desk and two chairs are positioned on the opposite side. I take a seat and Norman takes the other. Plaques of his accomplishments hang behind him, including the heads of an elk, moose, whitetail deer, and a ram.  
"The Telekinesis Project is a big lip mover. Your team has done an exceptional job. Well done, Ms. Harper."  
"Thank you, sir."  
"I've seen Rose's presentation, and I'm really surprised how little time it took you to get those critters to do what you asked for. Very impressive."  
"I'm sorry, but I was to believe the presentation is this Thursday."  
"I got a preview. But let's talk about your future with BlackOps. You know, Discovery is just one of two branches. We have Research in New Mexico and Raven Rock in West Virginia. The opportunities are ENDLESS.", ending his statement with much emphasis. "Dr. William Epstein is in need of a Research Associate and is having difficulty finding a good match. He's four weeks behind in his work, with the previous associate let go two days ago. Evidently, the guy wasn't a good match.", grinning lightly. He taps the silver container for a beloved toothpick. "Rose recommended you, which is why you are here today. I'm offering you a job."  
"Thank you, but I've decided to take some time off. I'll be sightseeing Europe for two, maybe three months."  
Moose continues on as if he was deaf to my words.  
"Dr. Epstein's work is on nuclear magnetic resonance spectroscopy, taking tissue samples of unknown species and breaking it down to organic molecules, to determine their chemical capabilities. You will doc his dictation, run statistical analysis and secondaries to fulfill his hypotheticals, and create beautiful graphs which from what I've seen in your current work? It's what the doctor's ordered."  
I smile upon his desk, out of feeling generous of his compliments, but follow up with words he doesn't want to hear.  
"Thank you. Again, for the compliments. However, I'm not interested."  
"The job is only three months, possibly four. Tops. $50,000 is your pay."  
My eyes grow wide in bewilderment, not because I'm interest in the money but because of the ridiculous pay out. Anyone with a set of brains and basic knowledge of statistics can do my current job, no less the one he's selling me. I'd be making $42,500 if I stayed with DESS for twelve months. This is more than I make now but in three months time! I don't like his offer. It oozes suspicion. I should've just said "no thank you" and ended our meeting, but my curiosity and bluntness had to get its way.  
"Really? You really want me to believe this job is worth fifty grand? What's the catch."  
"Everyone at Site R is required to remain underground for ninety days. You will work six days a week, every other week you get two days off. All amenities is covered, including meals and basic personal supplies, such as soap, toothpaste, things of this nature. A variety of entertainment is offered, such as movies, bowling, and a bar. An Olympic sized track, pool, and equipment is available to remain fit and active."  
"What about a connection to the outside world? I do have a boyfriend.", asking with a serious look.  
"That's not a problem. Everyone's allowed access to video conferencing in their room for privacy."  
"Fifty grand. Three or maybe four months?"  
"Right you are."  
I pause, feel out Norman's emotions, and I'm not getting a good vibe. Norman is concerned. Why, I don't know. I try to tap into Moose but get nothing. He's blocking my entrance. I can't read him!  
"No thank you.", I say with a slight smile. "Rotten timing. I really want to see Europe."  
"You know what? It's a big decision. I'm going to give you until 4pm tomorrow to decide. I'll get in touch with you before you leave for the day." His smile seems forced, dishonest, and slightly Devilish.  
"Fair enough.", I smile back.

My mind is waddled thick in thought over taking a trip away to Europe or to work at Raven Rock. I don't want to be around Bruce, tonight. I need time alone to go over the pros and cons. Truthfully, I can use his opinions. I really should open up to him and ask for his help, but I suspect he won't happy with either decision. I subconsciously turn my ring round and round, feeling uneasy to Moose's proposal. The fact I couldn't tap into his emotions worry me.  
The oranges are sweet, making me suckle them down to their fleshy rind and chew its inner meats in full. As I savor another, an itch on my upper left arm gets my attention. I scratch the surface to feel a 'pop' and a watery ooze spreads on to my skin. To my surprise I see the yellow puss, baffling me for I thought my healing would keep me auto healthy. I enter the bathroom, wipe the pimple with a Kleenex, and squeeze it clean. Out exits a tiny silver tube, much like a teeny fuse, and sticks to the puss and blood on the tissue. I clean the object, stare at it with fascination, and narrow my brows in question.  
"What IS this?"  
Personal research comes to mind. I analyze the oddity on the tissue, proceed to shake my head 'no' at my laptop, and then grab my purse and keys. The object I put in a plastic bag and into my front pant pocket. I head to the city Library to research on their computer for answers, which from the images seen, its an RFID capsule.  
"Well I'll be damned.", leaning back into my chair in disgust. Then I recall, on my way into the lobby, I spotted a flyer advertising an amateur robotics meeting on the third floor at 7pm. It's 6:45pm. I continue to tinker online with my alias log on, reading up on how RFID's work and the purposes it serves.  
 _'Maybe the geeks can confirm this.'_  
As I enter the small conference room built for twenty bodies, all eyes strike me with curiosities. I'm the only female in this room of eight other men, ages varying from fifteen to fifty.  
"Hi!", expressing a friendly smile. "Hey! Welcome to the club! I'm Joe. The President. Welcome!", shaking my right hand.  
"Thank you. Jules. Say, ah. I'm actually here for some insight to an unknown object, and I'm really hoping you guys can confirm what I have."  
Wow. I sure got their attention, for they all put down their toys and move slowly to me. Comical, really.  
"Alright? Do you have this unknown object?", asks Joe.  
"Yeah.", taking the baggie out of my pocket and holding it up to his face. He takes it, fires me a look of concern, and passes it to the next guy.  
"Where did you find it? Arm? Leg? Neck?"  
I point at my upper left arm, which is fully healed.  
"This is NOT cool. NOT at all.", say the third guy.  
"Agreed. Did you serve in the military?", asks another.  
"No. But ...I work for someone I'm now beginning to regret."  
"Oh shit. Here, in the city?", says the youngest, now examining the capsule inside the bag.  
"No. Michigan. On the lakefront. I can't say ...".  
"The notorious Black Operators.", responds Joe with much agreement from the others. One of the men closes the door.  
"Black Operators?", I ask, feeling a little uneasy.  
"That's what the inner circle calls them. You know, like us. And they favor the upper left arm. How did you know you carried an RFID? "  
"I had an itch, which I scratched, and out from the pimple exited this. So I was right to conclude this is a monitoring device."  
"From the looks of it, it may be more. The latest microchip is slightly longer. Bigger. This is ahead of the competitors. I would advise you to keep this close to your body. Like, tape it to your skin."  
"Oh my God! Take it! Take it!", cries out the youngest. "I don't want to get brought in!"  
"Cool it, Hartmann! It's good. If not, a squad of black vehicles would've already taken her in. Jules? Take extreme caution. Tape it on your body, where it's guaranteed not to fall away. Don't let ANYONE, such as friends, family, or coworkers, know that you are aware of the RFID. Capish?"  
"Capish. And thank you. I mean this. By the way, how are your funds?"  
"What do you mean?"  
"Here ...", giving Joe two grand in twenties. All dirty cash, of course, so not from my bank account. "...I'm donating. For tools and what nots for your club. You all have dreams. Purpose. Make it happen. And no worries where the money comes from. It's not traceable. Girl Scouts honor.", smiling generously, holding up my right hand to share the sign, and proceed to leave them all stumped. By the way? I've never been in the Girl Scouts.

As I return home, I take Joe's heed seriously. I buy a roll of pink duck tape, some burgundy hair dye, and a bar of white chocolate. I tape the RFID onto the middle of my breasts, rub the pink patch, and frown. I don't recall ever getting a shot in my arm. I haven't been a Doctor since my teens. Much like my job interview, I don't recall that either. What if they gave me the RFID as a requirement for my employment? Tonight, I stop talking to myself aloud. Tonight, the old familiar emotional barricade rises from the ashes. Tonight, I question my employer, my boss, my coworkers, and even Bruce. I spin The Empress around a number of times and contemplate my next course of action. Should I show him the tag or not? I stare at my face in the bathroom mirror, taking note of the fire burning behind my pupils. The embers glow bluish-green, devouring the remaining infinitesimal trust I hold for the outside world.  
 _'I swear. If Bruce is in on this RFID? Knows about it? I'm going to kill him.'_

Wednesday morning, Rose compliments me on my new look and questions the ring.  
"I've never seen you wear jewelry before. That's quite a ring! What is it? Coral?"  
"No.", turning in my chair to face her. "It's a conch pearl."  
"Conch pearl? I didn't know pearls came in pink!"  
"You and me both.", turning back with a smile to face my computer.  
"So. Are you going to take the job?", she asks. "It really is an opportunity worth taking."  
"I want to see Europe. So, no.", I say with confidence, documenting my telekinesis session.  
"I thought Bruce was working with Dr. Kevon's team on five. They're allowing him that much time off?"  
"I'm going alone."  
"Wait. He doesn't know, does he?"  
I turn to face her once more, but sternly. "No. And really? What's with the twenty questions?", expressing my displeasure in asking such personal questions. She backs away.  
"You're right. It's none of my business."  
Rose enters her office, closes the door, and sends an email to Moose of my decision. Shortly before the end of my work day, the cell rings. It's Bruce and I reluctantly answer.  
"Hey! How's it going?", he asks, cheerfully. "It's going. What's up?"  
"Curious if you're up to stopping by tonight after work? We can grab a pizza and watch a movie?"  
"I'm sorry, but I'm going to have to pass. I'm exhausted. Putting in these extra sessions with the macaques is draining. My eyeballs are screaming for some shut eye." _Liar._  
"Alright. How about tomorrow?", with a tone of disappointment. "Um. Yeah. Let's shoot for tomorrow.", typing away as I speak.  
I'm a good liar. I should be. I recall living a good number of years under the radar of society, faking my existence. The RFID capsule, the job offer, and now Rose trying to recruit me? What are the chances all three are related? I don't believe in coincidences. I pause to recall Joe's words, "The Black Operators".  
 _'Black Operators. BlackOps. Men in Black ... oh, fuck me.'_ , locked in a long stare on my monitor. _'What does Bruce know. Or, does he?'_  
4pm arrives, but Moose doesn't and I don't stick around to find out if he does.

Wednesday. I'm hopelessly restless. My mind can't seem to stay on task, making my sessions with the macaques difficult. Flashes of me fleeing, running by foot thru my neighborhood and downtown, keeps reoccurring in my head. My deep concerns to the job offer and backpacking Europe go hand in hand. If I wasn't involved with Bruce, would this be such a difficult decision? My insides burn hot from worry and anxiety, forcing me to cool myself with a yellow manila folder all day long. Every time our office door opens, I envision Moose dragging me out with me screaming and kicking "I don't want to go!" Christ.  
Bruce stops by at DESS a quarter to four and tells me he's taking me home today. I was ready to bail, quietly watching seconds increase on the digital clock and return back to zero. I fake my happy, eye the hallway for Moose, and finally relax in the car.  
"Order out or eat in?", he asks of dinner.  
"Take home. Anything will work. Surprise me." I'm too Goddamned exhausted to make any decisions.  
"Okay?", smiling profusely in my direction.  
He speaks to the screen upon his dash, "Zizi's Cafe", and it brings up the cafés website. "Check out their menu. Their wraps are delicious."

The hand blown red glass sconces above the island table watch us consume our dinner of Mediterranean food and white wine. We agree to a movie, The Bourne Ultimatum, and nestle on the couch of the living room. He picked up the DVD, hearing much praise at work for being a good spy film, and as we're twenty minutes into the movie, I feel rather uncomfortable of his choice. When discussion of Bourne's retrograde amnesia comes to light, he slowly eyes me and back at the movie. 'Smart. Real smart. I can't believe I chose this movie!', Bruce says to himself. I begin to find unavoidable similarities in the main character as myself. I even take in the possibilities I could be suffering from retrograde amnesia. There's no coincidences in life. Watching this movie was meant to happen. We sit thru it to the end, and Bruce excited shares, "Wow. Glad I picked that one up! That was pretty good!"  
"Yeah. I really liked it.", lying thru my grin with a smile so fake. Glad he didn't see it, for he was putting the movie away.  
"So. Another movie? I picked up Secretary a few months ago and haven't got around to it yet.", he says.  
"Sure. I've never heard of it. It's not a sappy movie, is it?", I joke.  
He sits back down, rests his left arm behind me, and skips thru the previews. "No. Not even close.", smiling with his teeth.  
"Secretary. What is this? A porno?", I joke, based on the title.  
"It stars James Spader and Maggie Gyllenhaal, so I highly doubt it."  
"James Spader? Oh, now you've got my attention."

Christ. Is this really happening? Perhaps I'm dissecting this movie too deeply. Maybe I'm unraveling the sweater too neatly to find every probable correlation in my life. I wouldn't consider Bruce a true dom, but he most certainly carries a confident nature around me and has no problems expressing his desires. As for myself, I'd like to be more domineering, but I'm much too submissive. I'll have my royal moments of pride, fighting for myself when I feel cornered. But in most situations where the opposition is the likely winner, I'll forfeit. Watching her character of weak social skills and submissiveness ...I just can't watch anymore of it.  
"I've been thinking about traveling Europe. In a couple of weeks, after my job is over. And I plan on being there for two to three months."  
"Oh. Well, that sounds fantastic!", he says with those sugary eyes.  
"Yeah? You're not upset? I mean, I'll be gone for a while."  
"Not at all! But I'm a bit curious why you're not taking the job offer to work with Dr. Epstein?"  
"Living underground for ninety days straight is not my cup of tea. I need to see the sun. I need to see the World. I need to smell the air and not recycled ...air freshener.", I say with obvious frustration.  
"Well? If it was me? I'd jump on it. The man's a genius in his work! An opportunity to work alongside him is very rare. I have colleagues who'd jump ship with their current work just for this job alone!"  
"How do you know about this job anyway? The offer extended to me?", inquisitive to his knowledge.  
"The job was reposted two days ago. Your name came up from two of my colleagues. It's a tight circle, you know. I'm guessing someone recommended your name? Shit like that flies fast at work. And the guys are hoping you take it. Mostly because they think it'd be cool to know someone's girlfriend is working with the world's best nuclear magnetic resonance spectrometist!", rubbing my left arm with much enthusiasm. I narrow my brows in query.  
"Really?"  
"Well? It would be pretty neat if you took the job.", rubbing his left hand upon my bicep and finishing it with a couple of nudges.  
"Really. Trapped underground for three or four months. Pretty neat? You and I clearly see things differently. I'm going to Europe and that's FINAL."  
I see the female character get fucked on her bosses desk. That's my cue.  
"Shit, I forgot to log #5 to the spreadsheet. I need to get back. If I don't do it before bed, I won't remember some extras I didn't note on paper. I'll catch a cab! No problem!", I shout as I grab my stuff and head for the staircase. "Thanks again for ...everything!"  
"Hold it! I can drive you home!", he yells, chasing me to the door.  
I was already out the front door and quickly leaving his lair of deception. I literally run a block away, turn into a narrow alley, and vanish from life surrounding me. Several pigeons take off in flight, spooked at my presence, and Woekey comes to mind. I lean back against the building and quietly cry with the city's bustling traffic. Bruce sits back onto the couch, turns the TV off, and stares at it blankly.  
"She ran. Again. I don't get her. Damn it!", followed by a long yell. "Fuck!"  
He stares at his phone, lets out a big sigh, and makes a call he dreads.  
"She's decided on Europe. ...no. ...I tried. What about my idea? ...I see."

Strangers pass thru me, vehicles the same, as I cross every busy street without a care in the world. Frankly, getting taken out by a city bus sounds pretty damn good. I ran. I ran away from the ONLY person I can trust. I can't keep running. I'm running in my sleep. Now I'm running wide awake? I collapse in the middle of Broadway and Clark in a crying fit. The world keeps moving thru me, unfazed of my existence. Much like my childhood, no one cared I existed. Much like the rest of my life, I go ignored or unnoticed on purpose because of my own doing. I ran from my life, became well-adjusted to my misery, and dwelled in it with simple comforts. I could have taken millions in cash, bought lavish items, and lived in style with my abilities. But I didn't. Money doesn't bring happiness. The idea of making fifty grand doesn't even make me smile. I told Bruce living underground for three months isn't my thing, and what does he follow-up with? "Well, my colleagues would get a boner if their co-workers girlfriend was working for Dr. Epstein."  
I wish I didn't go to bed angry, for I have no doubts it brought on the worst of dreams. I awoke an hour later, laden in sweat and screaming silently. Bound in chains and a metal mouth guard, my body drags over barren land. A blaze of fire lay behind me as the metal and rock flicker sparks below my weight, igniting the dry grass. The Men in Black? They captured me. Finally.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two more chapters to go and it ends this book of O.I.T.S.: Beautiful Stranger.  
> I'm really looking forward to sharing the next book, which will focus on Jules' true form, the Norse Gods, and a whole lot of Loki. Oh! There will be a lot of fighting. Mmmm~ Can't WAIT to share!!!


	15. The Calm Before The Storm - Part Nine

I carry a fabricated smile upon my face all morning around both John and Rose until lunch, only because I grew tired of smiling. So tired. I take my lunch outside to avoid life and chew at my boring turkey, provolone and lettuce bagel sandwich upon a bench facing the dunes. I can't see the lake but I can hear it sing. The surf is high today, thanks to an early morning thunderstorm. Fiery-eyed, I stare at the remaining half of my sandwich and curse.  
"Same bullshit lunch, day after day. Who am I kidding?" _So tired._  
I pack it back into my lunchbox and head to the lake for some peace of mind. A five-mile stretch of the beach is private property, for security reasons. That's what I recall from my orientation. What security reasons, I don't know. There's nothing out here but acres and piles of oatmeal and biscuit granules. The nearest building is a ten minute walk away, giving enough distance to conceal from eyes on water. The twenty-foot tall sand dunes appear deceiving, hiding the true nature of my employer and it's purpose. I narrow my brows at the idea I'm working for the wrong team.  
"Can't WAIT to leave this place."  
With both John and Rose gone for the presentation, I fire thru Web page after Web page on cities like Amsterdam, Luxembourg, and Helsinki. My heart skips with excitement as I become engrossed in train schedules, pictures, and what to visit. Museums, old city squares, and the night life fills my head with youthful ideas of play. I can socialize and grind on the dance floor with strangers, not feeling an ounce of fear I'll ever run into them again. Through my blood coursed the age old remembrance of independence, invincibility, and selfishness.  
 _'Fuck you, BlackOps!'_  
Two hours before the end of my work week, Moose stops by. I see him in the corner of my left eye and shun his attendance. With my ear buds in, I find my avoidance with an excuse ...until he taps my left shoulder. Time to put my game face on.  
"Hello, Mr. Wavell. Can I help you?", I ask.  
"How about we sit in Rose's office.", he says with direction, as if I had no choice.  
He closes the door, sits in her chair, and shakes out a toothpick from a silver container. He points at the chair for me to sit.  
"I'm to hear your decision, Ms. Harper."  
"I gave it much thought. However ...".  
"However, you're answering with an adverb. How about a singular noun, such a simple yes.", he says with a direct look.  
 _'You ...are a total ass.'_  
"No.", I stare back.  
"Jules ...", leaning over the desk with his hands clasped together, "...this is an opportunity to advance within the company. To see shit only a fraction of the Earth's population will ever face in person. You're a Science major. This job entails Science. You will love it."  
I don't even bat an eye at his delivery. I prod into his emotions and get jack. I still can't read him! 'Think! Think!'  
"Science is a broad field, and I intend to find a different line of work. After I travel Europe.", I say matter of factually.  
The crackling noises from her chair, as he leans back into it, brings visions of armed men from my dreams breaking my legs to keep me from running. His stare is disturbing, as well as the quiet surrounding us. The silence is deafening, frightening. I hate total silence!  
"Dr. Epstein is looking forward to your arrival next Tuesday at 8am. All required entry papers are filled, your security clearance was pushed through, and your private dorm room is stocked with your favorites. Including a pound of white chocolate-covered gummy bears."  
I move my eyes to the edge of the desk, tense, and fire up my emotional barricades. The vault, left open for Bruce's sake, is now locked tight. Fingers curl on my lap and a flame begins to flicker inside my chest. God, it hurts.  
"Hal will pick you up at 2am that day and bring you here. You'll then take a heliride to Site R. You're allowed to bring a few personal items." He pushes an envelope across the desk. "Instructions on what you may bring and avoid, along with your new badge, is inside."  
I look at the envelope, frown lightly, and he stands to leave.  
"Congratulations, Ms. Harper."  
I sat in my execution chair, incensed at myself for not fighting back. For fifteen whole minutes I trembled in pure stillness, punishing myself with white noise. If there's a phobia I fear the most, it's pure silence. I'd rather be unconscious than to hear nothing! Before picking up the envelope and returning to my desk, I look at the tattoo upon my left forearm. An unusual, simple, yet beautiful design in brown ink harbors a message I can't recall. A tattoo holds a story, except for my own.  
 _'This? Maybe I got it in college. Probably on some dumb bet.'_  
Devoid of emotion, I silently wrap up my things with Jose watching from afar at the observation window. I text Hal to let him know I'm leaving early today. Haunted by Moose's orders, I don't say a word out the door. On the ride home, I read the letter. It states today, Friday, is my last day of work. Jose comes to mind, as Hal flies past neighboring violators of the posted speed limit. He knew it was my last day and waited for me to say my goodbyes first. I felt his sadness, but my personal tirade within overrode his emotions. Fifty pounds of guilt sways over me, forcing me to slouch back into the seat. Had I known, I would've thanked him for hooking Bruce and I together.  
As traffic and life passes us by, I contemplate my next approach to BlackOps' offer: AWOL. If I do this, I drop EVERYTHING. EVERYTHING, including Bruce. I'll have to begin anew. Start over. Alone. I turn my phone off, log off my laptop, think heavily about the RFID capsule taped under the pink adhesive between my breasts, and smile upon a few ideas. I sneer at the floor to hide my expression from Hal.  
 _'Try to catch me now, assholes.'_  
Bruce called my phone and sent a text. Concerned of my lack of response and an early leave from work, he stops by around 8pm, but I'm not home.  
In stealth mode, I snuck into one of downtown's hottest dance clubs in a sexy attire I stole out of sight from a trendy shop and danced away my worries in view of complete strangers. Before doing so, I picked up a litter box, litter, cat food, a cute fat pink collar, and a stray cat in secret. I also secured the RFID capsule in pink tape around the collar. As far as B.O.D. knows, I'm home. Fucking brilliant!

It's a warm, muggy Saturday morning. I slept in, for I boogied down until 4am. My guilty conscience instructed me to turn the phone back on before crashing in bed at 5am. I barely slept, for the Men in Black continue to drag my bound body over a field of dead grass and a blaze of glory. I screamed words of displeasure and fought tooth and nail to break loose. The men just kept marching on. My phone broke my sleep, chiming to Bruce's tone, and much like a sloth I slowly respond.  
"Hello?"  
"Jules? Did I wake you?"  
"Mmmmph. Ummm. What time is it?", fighting my words between lips frothed in saliva.  
"10:30. I called and texted you last night. What's going on?"  
"Going on? ...what's going on ...going ...mmmm. Going? Are we going somewhere? What?" I'm so exhausted, my brain fails to communicate and decides to shut down. My hand, still holding on the phone, falls to a rest against my face and I fall back asleep.  
"Hello? Jules? Hey! I can hear you breathing!" Bruce looks at his phone to verify the line is still open. "Are you sleeping?"  
I was. I find myself burdened in heavy chains, cursing through the slits of my mouth guard. The taste of metal from my thick backwash makes me nauseous, but I fight it with words to break the men's attention. Bruce hears me moan and breathe heavily. He immediately grabs his keys and listens to me whine, moan, and breathe on his way to my place.  
Eventually, I've had enough and force myself to wake. As I look at myself in the bathroom mirror, I let go a groan of disgust. With bags under my eyes and the whites slightly blood-shot, I rest my open palms upon my face for a quick fix. It wasn't the three glasses of sweet red wine at the Spy Bar that fucked me up. It was from me, crying like a baby, just to put myself to sleep. I lean over the sink with my hands and let out a big sigh. Maybe a hot shower will make me feel all better? Besides, I smell like an ashtray and dirty sweat.  
Bruce curses at the unusual heavy traffic, thanks to a Spring marathon. His usual route is jacked up with hundreds of vehicles trying to get around the blocked streets. What normally takes him ten minutes is taking him twenty minutes to get a mile ahead. By the time he arrives, I had taken a shower, fallen from my ladder, and left my apartment for some air.

After my quick shower, I spend fifteen minutes in my greenhouse, moping around my plants more than usual. I want to blame it on the increasing cloud cover and projected severe spring storms later today, but I really know why. I'm depressed. I haven't felt this way in so long, it hurts to breathe and think and just flatly live. It feels fucking miserable. I look up and watch the cumulus cotton balls pass behind the glass panels, wishing I could hitch a ride. It's mesmerizing. I'd rather be anywhere but here. I also take notice of the drip stains from years of condensation and dust. I decide today is as good as any to clean the inside windows.  
I return to the apartment to grab an old cheese cloth and the bottle of vinegar and water. With skies darkening, I can hear the storm's distant rumble announcing its arrival. Resting peacefully in the back of the greenhouse is the seven-foot ladder. I prop it close to the far right and begin at the back of the greenhouse. As I stand on the third to the last step, I rest the bottle on the top step and hold the rag in my left hand. I lean my front thigh legs into the top step for support, carefully inspecting the closest glass panel. The peak of the roof is twelve feet and I can barely reach the top panel I want to clean. With my right index finger, I swipe the glass and inspect both the glass and the tip of my finger.  
"Pretty gritty."  
Carefully, I transfer the rag into my right hand and lower my left hand to pick up the bottle.  
BANG!  
Without a moments warning, the entire ladder violently tipped backwards and back upright, throwing my body free into the air. It happened so fast, I didn't have the seconds needed to grab the ladder to save myself. It felt as if the ladder moved with purpose, disgusted of my presence, and threw me off. My eyes large and hollering in disbelief, I felt gravity take me and watched the ladder quickly grow smaller. I knew it was too late. The ground was going to greet me hard, consume every rib bone, and chew it clean. All I could do was close my eyes real tight, hold my breath, and wait for the impact. And wait. And I waited.  
Nothing. Nothing happened.  
I began to think I DID hit the ground and passed out from the pain. Yet to my astonishment, I'm closer to the roof than I should be! The tops of my lemon trees greet me to my right. Immediate confusion races in. Maybe I'm delusional from the impact? How can I be so damn close to my lemons? My arms are still out in front, frozen in time, and grasping at nothing. I lowered them slowly, cautiously, down past my side and expect to feel the ground.  
Nothing.  
A landslide of panic ensues within my chest and squeezed tight as my brain fought to process the validity of my condition. I hyperventilated, hollered curses, and grabbed my beloved lemon tree for its unconditional support.  
"Breathe! Breathe! Slowly ...oh fuck! Shit!"  
I had to talk myself to calm down. Telling myself, mentally, just wasn't cutting it. I reopened my eyes, moved my upper body into an upright position, and looked down to my left.  
"Oh my Gaaawd?!"  
I was up in the air! Floating! I quickly inspected my surroundings, trying to prove and reason with reality.  
"Okay. Down? Umm, lower? Drop?"  
My body began to lower, at a gentle pace, and as my legs dropped first I gently came to a standing position. I walked to the table in front of me and grabbed a hold of the edge, anticipating myself to float again. Yet I didn't. I looked back at the disgusted ladder. I looked up at the glass panel, showing my finger swipe. I looked at the floor, where I should lay. Traumatized, I kneel to feel the cool concrete upon my knees and sob hard. My hands shook, for my adrenaline was slowly wearing off.  
"Impossible acts. This all can't be real! It's not feasible, or real, or human. Or is it ...oh? Oh. My. Fucking. God."  
I walked backwards to the door, fumbled with the door handle behind my back, and kept my eyes open, looking cautiously for something or someone. I closed the door, walked backwards to my sliding door, closed it hard and locked it. I kept backing up. I got to the bathroom door, entered, and locked it as well. I sat down on the toilet and continued to watch the door, as if I expected someone to show up. There was no way, in my mind, that ladder could have jolted the way it did without someone present. Yet, I saw no one. But that wasn't what frightened me all the way to the bathroom. My floating next to suicidal Lori in a vision but stopping short of hitting the ground and now a flash of memories paints the final stretch of the empty canvas. All that's now missing is my last two years of life.  
I went to my bed, fall backwards, and lay there, staring at the ceiling. What is happening to me? I throw my hands on my face in disbelief.  
"Let me get this straight. I can read emotions. I can heal. I can disappear. I can create this strange barrier around me. And now I can resist gravity?! Fucking impossible. It's not possible. It's ...inhuman?", I speak quietly to myself. "Inhuman. Is that it? Am I not human?"  
I look out at the pounding rain with heavy flashes of lighting surrounding me and recall how natural flight felt to me as I rode Tony's plane. There's only one way to find out just how natural flight is, outside of my dreams, and that's to test it out. With a nervous twitch above my right eye, I vanish myself before entering the rooftop. The raindrops pass through me as I look up to the angry skies. I close my eyes and envision myself rising. Before I know it, I'm dancing with a forty thousand foot anviled thunderstorm.  
Bruce arrives during the height of the storm and takes a breather to calm his pissy self as he waits for a break in the storm. Our phone connection ended twenty minutes after the initial call. He called me back to find it rolling into voice mail. A text is then sent, but it goes unanswered.

I play with my commands as I rise and fall effortlessly. My invisibility allows me to avoid the dangerous wind sheer, hail, and lightning. The darkness and heavy flashes of light is surreal, giving my emotional experience of flight outside of my dreams something to cry about. I feel free. I feel a release from my bond to BlackOps. I feel reborn! Is this my answer to survival? Did the push upon the ladder force me to recall this ability? Who's watching over me? Who's got my back?  
As the air thins at the height of my climb, my instinctual memory takes over. I put out my right hand and say the word.  
"Protection"  
I rise above the anvil and marvel at the curvature of Earth's atmosphere, stop in place, and narrow my eyes. The hippocampus rallies forth a victorious cry, a smile rises hard into the right cheekbone, and soon enough I'm smiling with my clenched teeth.  
"Oh. I do recall now! And my dreams ...I'll be damned. They caught me with a fucking paycheck! Nice work, assholes. But the show must come to an end. You don't get to dick with me, any longer. It's MY turn, motherfuckers! Try to catch me now! Hah!"  
I push forward as hard as I can and fly East. The orange sphere breaks the sound barrier over Lake Michigan as I carry a speed of unimaginable proportions. The rumble incorporates with the severe weather, going unnoticed, but the signature doesn't. The military questions the rip in the atmosphere, as well as BlackOps-Command at Site R. With all military aircraft accounted for and a meteorite ruled out, Lt. Commander Griggs at Site R mulls over the facts.  
"Get eyes on our unknown. Electromagnetic grid steady?", he asks within a darkened room full of lit monitors, flat screens, and chimes to alert my naughty behavior. The testosterone is heavy, for all eight men monitoring my move are in their mid twenties and quite aroused over some long overdue action.  
"Unknown is not in our registry, sir.", says one.  
"Directional speed is mach thirty. Continues to hold steady 41.7819° N, 87.7678° W, sir.", says another.  
"Unknown is cloaked, sir. Can't get a picture.", says another with a hint of excitement.  
"Get Tony Stark on Secured Red.", says Griggs in very calm demeanor.  
Tony's phone rings, the screen lights up red with "RR GRIGGS" denoted in large bold caps. Tony likes Griggs and is the only hancho in BlackOps he's more than willing to do work for. Griggs is a direct opposite of Moose in persona who's always open to ideas and criticism. Grigg's ultra calm demeanor is his beacon of pride and everyone calls him "The Peacemaker".  
"This is Tony Stark."  
"Stark. It's been a while, has it not? Hope you and your wife are doing well?"  
"Quite. Thank you for asking. What do you have?"  
"Got an unknown at mach thirty whom began its run just above sweet home, Chicago. It's going to return your way in ten minutes. Interested?"  
"I'm game. And I'm home, so if you'll kindly give me five minutes, I'll be ready for the Kodak moment."  
"It's cloaked. Looks like you've got one Hell of a storm. You'll need to get above it. That's where it all began."  
"Gonna be one Hell of a ride up, then. A first for the record books. I like firsts.", entering his suit of armor. "JARVIS, my man. How's it shakin'?"  
"Systems 120%, just the way you like it, sir."  
"That's my boy. Open channel to Griggs. And this ride will require an proper setting. AC/DC Thunderstruck, please and thank you."

I recognize the anvil ahead over Lake Michigan, and I let out a cheer.  
"Fuck yeah! One more round, just for shits and giggles!"

"Sir? Your target will arrive in fifteen seconds.", says JARVIS.  
"Show me what we know ... Oh?" Tony's voice trails off in surprise.  
"Got something?", asks Griggs.  
"The storm is ...interfering with our comm ...let me move with it ...better loc ...".  
Tony immediately ends the call and follows my lead two miles behind.  
Bruce sits in his car, looks up at the sky through the windshield, and curses the ongoing weather. His disposable silver cellphone rings.  
"I'm a bit preoccupied right now.", he answers.  
"Pleeeeease tell me you're making out with her. Or in view of her.", Tony pleads.  
"You REALLY need to let it go, Tony! We've already fucked like rabbits! What else do you want to hear about our relationship?!"  
"ARE YOU WITH HER?", Tony yells in anger.  
"NO! WHAT'S THIS ABOUT?!", yelling back.  
Tony says nothing, which is never a good sign from Tony and Bruce responds in a tirade.  
"Don't you hold out on me!"  
"Open comm, JARVIS. Tell Bruce what we're chasing."  
"An unknown object was detected above the thunderstorm at 41.8819° N, 87.6278° W fifteen minutes ago, moving at mach thirty. The electrostatic discharge is that of Jules Harper."  
"Oh my fucking God. I'm outside her place right now!", Bruce yells.  
"What are you waiting for! Get up there!", Tony shouts.  
"I've been waiting for this damn storm to pass! ...SHIT. She's not answering the doorbell! But I got an idea. I'll call you back!"  
Bruce heads behind the building, finds a narrow alley between two buildings behind my own, and strips down to his boxers. He finds an empty cardboard box, puts his clothes in it, and sets it down upon a garbage can outside the narrow alley. He transforms himself, bites down on the box, and climbs up the power pole along my building. He makes an eight foot leap and lands upon my rooftop, quickly relaxing his mind to transform back. With the box in hand, he finds my sliding door unlocked and enters.  
"Jules?", he says calmly and carefully checks the empty bathroom. He calls Tony back.  
"I'm checking the greenhouse now. Aaaaand she's not here."  
"Griggs' sent me on this goose chase, but they don't know who or what it is. Did anyone follow you?"  
"I don't know. Never bothered to watch my back. Now I'm regretting it!", says Bruce as he looks at my cat. "When did she get a cat?"  
"JARVIS. What does her GPS show?"  
"Location is 41.9108° N, 87.6400° W."  
"JARVIS? Double check."  
" 41.9108° N, 87.6400° W."  
Bruce entered the coordinates onto his iPhone, and by surprise, it's my apartment. He squints his eyes on the overweight cat.  
"That's a good kitty.", holding the pudgy ball of fur and turning the collar around. Something caught his eye. He removes the collar and pulls the pink duck tape apart.  
"Oh no.", Bruce says in a somber tone.  
"What? Who's on your trail?", Tony asks, assuming Bruce spotted a BlackOps agent.  
"She knows, Tony." Bruce rolls the RFID capsule between his right thumb and index finger. "It's over."  
"Let me guess. It's the RFID tag?"  
"She had it attached to the cat's collar."  
"That's my girl! She's back!", say Tony in a cheer. "Oh, Bruce? Better scram. She's holding over home plate. I'm going to fly ...in circles or something for a bit. But get out of there!"  
Bruce ends the call, dresses back into his clothes, quickly returns the RFID capsule under the tape, and replaces the collar on the cat. He leaves out the apartment door.

I lower myself through the clouds and float towards the Mag Mile. I remove my protective field, head towards the Watertower Place, and sneak out two pounds of my favorite white chocolate covered clear gummy bears. Gleefully, I float through my neighborhood and savor the gourmet sweets and glorious feels of triumph. The rain event was long over, but I remain in visual hiding as I return to my building. Smiling profusely and eating my trophy snack, I stop dead in my tracks. My eyes widen.

Bruce pulls his car into his garage and heads to his workshop. He scratches his head and looks around for the replica RFID gun BlackOps uses. He grabs the dark gray case, opens it, and loads it with a tag he and Tony tweaked for that 'just in case' scenario. He places the empty container, denoting the tags serial number into his front pocket, and quickly moves down the stairs. The buzzer from the intercom of his front gate slows him, moving him to the kitchen video intercom panel.  
"Jules!"  
I recognized the man leaning against a car, eating a red apple, as the same man I've seen in Vendoland. The same man I once questioned if he was Woekey's killer, was waiting outside my home. I quickly floated away and the first place I thought of was Bruce's. I find an alley, reappear, and run to his front gate. In panic mode, I buzz three times. The gate clicks! I get to his door and lightly dance on my feet, anxiously looking around for suspicious bodies. When he opens the front door, I nearly push him over.  
"Woo woo woo. What's going on?", he asks in surprise.  
I run up the stairs to the kitchen and stay away from the windows. My feet still shuffle and I shake my hands to break the anxiety.  
"Jules! You want to tell me what's going on?", gently holding my shoulders and looking at my troubled face.  
"I ...ah. I'm being followed. Some guy with a really long black braid stood outside my building. But I. But ...but."  
"Did he see you?", asking me harshly.  
"No. No, he didn't see me. But. But, I think it's the same guy who killed Woekey, Bruce! I think he's the killer!", grabbing him tight around his back and pressing my forehead into his right shoulder.  
I'm scared shitless, but I also want to fucking taste revenge. I just don't know how to get around doing it! I've never been in a physical fight with someone my whole life. I suppose I could've grabbed a pipe and knocked the man out of his senses while unseen.  
 _'Fuck me for not trying!'_  
Bruce lays his right hand behind my head and the other hand upon the center of my back, followed with a warm kiss on my forehead.  
"You're safe here. With me.", he says in his sweet voice.  
"Yeah. Yeah.", relaxing my grip of him. "Do you mind if I had something to drink? I ran my ass off."  
"Not at all.", and passes me a glass of water.  
"Thank you. Five miles! I never realized I could run that long!", I lie and joke with a light laugh. I nervously look at the large window.  
"Let's go up a floor.", he suggests and I nod to agree. His phone rings.  
"Just Tony. Hey! What's goin' on?"  
"Bad news. BlackOps knows. Where are you?"  
"I'm home and a wee bit preoccupied right now, mesmerized by the love of my life.", winking at me with his warm smile. "Can I call you later?"  
"Keep. Her. There. I'll be by, say dinner? I'll bring Chinese. Keep it low key, just in case we've got eyes. Whisper at each other."  
"Alright. Talk later."  
Bruce moves to me in that confident demeanor of his before attacking his prey and I relax a bit, allowing him to approach. His strong, valiant hands rub the outside of my arms and I close my eyes and swallow my truths. I need to tell him. Closure ...you know? I can't just bail and leave him wondering. We went through this before, and 'not knowing' nearly consumed me in depression.  
"Bruce? I need ...".  
"Shhhh. Speak softly.", he says, tapping his ears. I quickly understand him.  
"Right.", I whisper. "Can we sit down?"

Tony returns to his pad to find a message waiting on his video conference monitor. He slaps his face a few times, jumps up and down, and then hits the "join" icon. Upon the screen is Commander Wavell, alone, in his office.  
"You fired me. Remember?", Tony says rudely.  
"Jules' status has been upgraded to Alpha. Harboring an unknown will put you, Bruce, or both underground a minimum of five years."  
"You've got GPS tech on her. Use it.", Tony smarts back.  
"Unless she can shapeshift into a cat, I'm going to say she's on the run."  
"A cat? I'm not following you."  
"Look. We both obviously butt heads. We don't like each other's company. But I like your work and your ...ethics. Don't do anything stupid to jeopardize your future, Stark.", and Moose ends the link.

"Can I share something with you?", I whisper.  
"Of course you can. Anything.", whispering back.  
I take a pause and continue to look at my hands folded together upon my lap.  
"Something happened to me. Something very strange, in the greenhouse. Something I cannot explain."  
My body becomes tense and I close my hands into fists against my belly.  
"Go on.", resting his left hand upon my right shoulder. "What happened to you?"  
"I don't know. I mean, I do know. I just." I take in a deep breath and let it out. "I fell off my ladder."  
"How high were you?", moving back slightly to look me over.  
"High. I was about to clean the glass panel above."  
"How high?"  
I can sense his concern, both from his tone of voice and from his emotions.  
"HOW HIGH were you, Jules?"  
I look at his nine foot tall ceiling, stand up, and walk up to a bare wall. With my right hand, I point to the height of the ladder and my left hand I point to where I stood.  
"The ladder is seven feet. I stood here. The roof is twelve feet."  
He now stands a foot away to my right. Bruce's voice is troubled. I get the impression he's concerned that I may have hurt myself from the fall. I take another deep breath and let out the hot, anxiety-filled air from my lungs. Bruce looks at my face and caresses my right cheek and ear. Just his touch, alone, calms me.  
"Are you alright? Hurt in any way? Any pain?"  
I look back at the wall.  
"I'm alright. I'm not hurt."  
"How did you fall? Did you loose your footing? How did you land?"  
His eyes move about me and his fingers glide across my chest, as if he is inspecting me for damage. I lower my head a little.  
"I... I...".  
My voice begins to twitch, ready to take the leap forth and share my story, to be forthcoming like I promised. But I hold still for too long.  
"It's alright. I'm just concerned you might have received a concussion.", tucking my loose hairs behind my ears and smiling with that reassuring twinkle in his eye.  
"That's just it, Bruce. I didn't hit my head."  
"Ooookay. I get the sense there is MORE to this event you are not sharing with me. Am I right?"  
My heart burns with fuel to initiate my own tragedy. I can flee now and allow our hearts to bleed forever or in turn I can bleed out my life story and allow him to suture me as he sees fit. I chose to quickly walk four feet towards the stairs but stop on my own. As I question my motive, I also question why I would tell a stranger my inner most secrets. I've only known him since the New Year. Is three months enough time? I clench my fists tightly and hold them to my chest and fight to find the words to express what happened to me.  
"It's okay. You don't have to tell me anything. If you don't feel ready."  
Why explain in words when I can just show him? I take a few breaths to ease my fear of disclosure and slowly lift off the carpet. Keeping my eyes to the spiral stairs, I can feel his emotions heighten and his heart gallop to me. Slowly, he approaches from behind. When he enters my protective niche, I quickly spin around and put out my right hand for him to stop.  
"I'm so sorry.", I whisper. "I ah. I ...oh God! I really need your help. I don't want to run. Not anymore. I have no where to run to. I'm afraid to share my burden because I don't want you to get involved. To get into any trouble. I'm confused, Bruce! I ah? I ah?"  
"Would you like me to leave? Give you some time alone? I can make a pot of coffee? Watch some of my shows on the DVR?"  
"No.", I chuckle and float to him. I land to embrace him hard. "Please don't leave me. Stay. Please."  
I broke down and cried into his neck and in turn he squeezed me hard, constricting me much like a boa constrictor would to kill its prey. In a sense, I felt as if Death was playing Russian roulette with my life. I've just allowed Bruce to witness my ability to defy gravity. He's witnessed me heal a dying woman. If I disclose my other abilities, will my happy life come to an end? Is this the part the Men in Black bust in and capture me?  
"What else can you do?", he whispers.  
"This."  
I take my hands and press them upon his face, float up to level with his lips, and take him with me effortlessly into the air. My eyes are closed, but his are open wide with excitement and quickly moves his hands to my back and holds on. Sensing his concerns, I break our kiss and move my hands down his arms to hold his fingers. We hover a foot away from the ceiling.  
"I won't let you fall. I promise.", I whisper in a strong smile.  
"This is amazing! You want to trade?", whispering back excitedly like a boy would upon discovering something better.

Rachel called forth Thor per Moose's orders, after discovering the RFID on my rolly polly cat and Tony's report of finding nothing unusual circling Earth. She advises Thor of my Alpha status, the unknown flying at a ridiculous speed, and my attempt to fool B.O.D. with the tag upon the cat.  
"Can you track her down?"  
"I will. If this pleases you.", winking her way.  
"It pleases Moose."  
"Oh.", looking disappointed.  
"She's labeled as an enemy, even though she's done nothing to show for it. You see? Moose is looking for an excuse to put her into his new glass observatory."  
"If I discover she is not your kind, he cannot hold her on Midgard."  
"Good luck telling him such."

5pm. Tony arrives with a large paper bag full of Chinese food and heads up the stairs. Setting the bag on the counter of the kitchen, he stands still to hear for us.  
 _'Too quiet.'_ , now moving carefully about.  
He walks up the stairs, slowly, and hears light movement. He peeks over the floor to the bedroom and sees an empty bed. A few more steps up, he looks right and sees an empty sofa. The light noises capture his attention from above in the bedroom. As his eyes rise up, he immediately drops down to a squat.  
 _'Holy shit!'_  
I've got Bruce pinned to the ceiling, naked on his back, riding him like this was my final hurrah. Bruce can't see the stairs even if he tried, for my hair hangs down like a curtain and blocks the view. Tony moves backwards down the stairs, slowly, getting a few more views in before leaving us, and raises his eyebrows in awe.  
"Lucky bastard.", he says under his breath. "He goes years without a lay and gets nailed by an alien beauty."  
Jealousy stirs him as he removes the food containers out of the brown bag, roughly setting them on the island table. Reaching puberty, he often choose Lorna Dane or Jean Grey from the comic books to beat off a quickie. Never in his wildest dreams did he imagine aliens would truly unite or fight with our world in his youth. Now? He's got a chance to fulfill his fantasies. He looks at his wedding band and smirks.  
Four times, I climaxed over him ...or under him. The new sensation of viewing the room upside down, my hair dangling with a light pull upon my scalp, and an odd tingling sensation throughout my organs brought me to climax multiple times in five minutes. Bruce continues to hold steady with controlled breathing, much like in his meditative state, enjoying the unusual view of my body. He notices his body isn't feeling the tug of gravity as it should, with the exception of a similar tingle within. Up and down I moved, gripping him and twitch as I hit another climax. I bite down on my right index finger to keep from shouting, but his name still managed to seep thru in my heavy breaths.  
"I smell ...Mongolian beef.", I whisper, adjusting my pelvis to the left and hold down his forearms.  
"Orange chicken.", he says softly, followed with a light grunt.  
The slight tilt of my hip changes the sensation of his head now slamming against the side of my cervix and sends a terrifying strong jolt up my spine. I couldn't hold in my emotions any longer. My hands fly away, my back arches, and I stop in blissful agony. Like tipping off standing dominoes, I set off his emotions and his moans loudly chase after my voice, unleashing his blanks with such pressure I felt every spurt hit my tender wall. The longer he holds back his climax, the harder he strikes.

Migs had a hunch I wasn't returning tonight. What I did with the RFID tag he found entertaining, liking his target even more. Moose orders him and a squad to park and hold within a one block radius of Bruce's home. They move into position an hour after Tony shows with dinner.  
"Keep an eye, roof level. Just incase she spooks in flight. Go for target. Avoid the major organs."  
"It would be my pleasure.", responds Migs, grabbing his black bag of goods.

Bruce closes the curtain in the kitchen, taking a quick gander to see nothing out of the ordinary. We all eat quietly, making the meal rather uncomfortable. I hate silence.  
"Tony's staying the night and so are you.", says Bruce, quietly.  
"I don't think we'll all comfortably fit in Bruce's bed, so I'll sleep on the sectional.", Tony whispers in a serious tone. I shoot him a low brow and he smirks in return.  
"You're a big dreamer, Tony.", I joke back in a whisper.  
"Dreams do come true. Walt Disney said so.", he fires back. I lift my right eyebrow high and return a look of disgust.  
"I've never been a fan of Disney."  
"Why do you have to ruin my hopes and dreams?", Tony sarcastically whispers in a goofy ass smile. "Everyone has ambitions. Fantasies. Dreams, even! C'mon, Jules. What do you dream about?"  
I wipe my mouth, lean forward, and give Tony a direct stare.  
"I dream of armed men. Hoards of them. All dressed in black fatigues and heavily armed. All chasing me as I fly to escape capture. I've been dreaming of these men since my teens. Nearly EVERY NIGHT, Tony. Disney says dreams come true? Then I'm in a world of trouble. Those armed men in my dreams? They FINALLY captured me two nights ago, bound in chains and dragging my ass thru a desert. As for Disney? He can kiss my ass!"  
Bruce holds my right arm to calm me, but his touch only pisses me off. I shrug him free and head for the stairs.  
"Where are you going?", he whispers.  
"To lay down.", sneering at both men.  
Tony's bewildered reaction only makes Bruce more upset.  
"What?! I'm a fan and she's clearly not. For obvious reasons.", pouting at his egg roll, now entering his mouth.

Tony slept on the sectional of the living room with Bruce and I sleeping in bed, facing each other. I dreamt of my childhood, which is incredibly rare. All of my favorite toys, foods, and locations to play came forth in vivid colors. All of this quickly changed to a scene of moving colors surrounding me, as if I traveled through a rainbow tube. When I saw the gleaming city upon a floating rock, I woke up hard. Bruce still has his left hand resting on my right hip and his right arm under my neck. His hot exhales from his flaring nostrils rush over my face. A beautiful scene lays ahead. So peaceful. How can a man so driven to keep me safe, happy, and loved also betray me in lies? I opened myself to a complete stranger, allowed him to capture my heart, bled my emotions dry, and shared one of my innermost secrets. He PROMISED to be true and honest. But my dream tonight ...my past memories all had returned but my last two years, until tonight. What I saw frightened me to the core. This man had LIED to me about us!


	16. The Calm Before The Storm - Part Ten

The city air is still and the orange glow reflecting off the low ceiling casts an odd glaze on Migs' sleeping black suit. Another man sits alongside him with binoculars in tow, keeping watch for any movement on Dr. Banner's rooftop. An elaborate rifle with a powerful scope sits peacefully upon the ledge, awaiting its master to command it. It's 3am, the witching hour, and no one sleeps tonight.

My right hand is open and pressed gently on his chest, feeling the coarse chest hairs curl around my fingertips. Ripples follow as I reach his ribs. I want to feel the truth within my hands. I want to force my God-filled awful images out of my head. I can't help to believe not only was I working for the wrong team I was also in love with the wrong man.  
"Please tell me you're the one. Please tell me your love is true. Please tell me I'm crazy. I don't want to believe my dreams speak the truth. I don't want my dreams to take away all I ever hoped and dreamed for. To be wanted. To be seen. To be loved." I whisper it all upon his chin with silent tears streaking down my face to the dark blue pillows.  
"I will ALWAYS be true to you, as promised.", he whispers back, taking me by surprise. "As for love? I love you, Jules."  
I sit up, kneeling, and with hands clasp against my heart to keep it warm. He follows, kneeling, and removes my hands away.  
"I'm scared, Bruce.", I whisper.  
"Don't be.", he whispers back. "You're safe here."  
"Yeah.", I sigh and look down at my naked thighs.  
"Hey." His right thumb presses my chin and his index finger strokes back and forth below. "If anyone even tries to hurt you, I'll have my friend take care of business.", pointing at his chest.  
He got me to smile again. I grab his right hand with my left, turn to kiss it, and press his open hand against my cheek. My spine tingles as his confidence warms through and exterminates my fears. He leans in, forehead to forehead, and I hold his face in both hands. Slowly, I begin to move the tip of my nose back and forth, rubbing the sides of his nose and circle around below his eyes. Over and over, I repeat the pattern as if I've been born to do so. Feeling a squeeze around my heart, I exhale a moan and suckle his upper lip. He remains still, enjoying the tease, and I continue the nuzzled dance. Like a bolt of lightning, he tackles me. I squeal with delight, as I fall backwards, and his dick at full salute pokes against my lips below.  
Kisses, tears, and passion fills his room. Under his comforter we embrace, touch, taste each other. Yet, my memories haunt me. Bits and pieces of a forgotten memory upon Asgard flash behind my eyelids. As he lay above me with his weight upon my womb, visions of burly and tall Gods come forth. As his slick head reaches my sweet spot, I watch my greenhouse shatter to pieces. As I yell in distress over its destruction, I also climax in real-time. My fingernails press hard into his back, bringing him to moan in gratitude. But when I envisioned my silver-haired beautiful stranger in a ravens cloak, standing against the brick wall of his room to watch us fuck? I drove my nails thru Bruce's back. The horrid snapping noises of skin breaking and Bruce's scream sends a powerful release thru my body. I can feel his agony and pain scorch my insides, bringing me to arch hard and moan loudly, sharing his anguish.  
"Let go! Let go!", he shouts, feeling the beast stir within.  
Tony runs up the stairs to see what was the matter. Shocked, he sees Bruce's bloody back and my hands shaking off to the side.  
"Please! Please! Let me heal you! Please!", I tearfully beg as he backs away in horror. He shakes his head in disbelief, seeths in his pain, and cautiously watches me move behind him. He spots Tony and motions for him to grab the gun.

"Sir.", tapping Migs' left thigh, "Controls just heard commotion on the second floor." Migs stretches, checks his watch, and his brows rise in surprise.  
"3:15. Huh."  
He moves to his specimen of pride and does a once over, all to a light and eerie tune.  
"Come hear, the moon is calling. The witching hour draws near. Come hear, the bell is tolling. Mortals run in fear." He looks back to the young man and sings. "All hell breaks loose. Hell's breaking loose. Witching hour, witching hour.", and returns to look into his scope, pointing to the rooftop door.  
"Sir?", the young man asks, confused to the lyrics.  
"Just a song. Just a song.", Migs responds in a grin.

Red fingertipped hands hover over the deep wounds, shaking miserably with my cries. The heat leaves my chest, rises up my arms, and pass through the bloody palms. His skin begins to fuse shut, leaving just the blood to show my guilt. As I drop my hands away, Bruce quickly turns and wraps his arms tight around me.  
"NOW!", he mouths quietly to Tony.  
The gun exhibits a vertical rectangular red grid upon my back. As soon as the pulsing orange light turns green, Tony pushes the tip of their shared creation upon my spine and fires. An RFID capsule passes between my C8 and T1 and lodges in the epidural layer. The capsule is tiny, encapsulated by the fatty tissue, therefore not affecting my nervous system functionality. It's so tiny, I couldn't feel but barely hear the audible pop of a mechanism behind me.  
"What's happening to me?! Why did I hurt you?!", I cry aloud. "I don't know why I hurt you!"  
"It's okay now. Shhhh. It's okay.", pressing his left hand upon the back of my head. "Shhhh."  
He looks at me, smiling, and I see his eyes are tearing up. To see a grown man cry is too much for me to bear.  
"I hurt you, Bruce. And I'm so sorry!"  
He made me cry. I move my left hand up to his face and gently wipe away his tears, but the blood on my hands stop me.  
"I'm a monster.", I blurt thru my wet lips.  
"Shhhh. Stop.", he whispers.  
I push him away, leave the bed, and run into the bathroom. I lock the door and immediately turn on the faucet to wash the sticky red guilt off my hands. The door handle jostles.  
"Jules. Unlock the door.", Bruce demands.  
I scrub my hands faster, getting what I can underneath the nails.  
"Please unlock the door."  
"Just a minute. I'm almost done."  
I turn off the water.  
'Vanish'  
I unlock the door and pass through the wall, enter his walk in closet, reappear, and quickly search for my clothes. He opens the door to find an empty bathroom.

"What do you see?", asks Thor to Heimdall, standing on the edge of the great Void.  
"She is in Bruce Banner's residence and very upset. Tony Stark is also present."  
Thor refused to search for Jules, feeling this was a matter between her and BlackOps. He wasn't entirely sure if she was just using magic to fool people or if she was indeed gifted beyond a Midgardian. He stands with his trusted friend and hears out the scenario unfolding below.

Tony hears a ruckus in the closet and walks forth.  
"Bruce?", he calls out.  
I managed to get my underwear and bra on, when Bruce eyes me. His mouth falls open, looks around inside the closet, then at Tony. I pick up my shirt and slowly walk to him, stopping three feet away.  
"I can't explain why I hurt you, but I am very sorry to have done so." I look at him directly into his sugar brown eyes.  
"I can heal. I can protect myself with an orangish barrier. I can read emotions. I can disappear. And I can defy gravity. I can fly in real-time and not just in my dreams. Who I am or what I am, I don't know. I've never known. I stopped searching for answers, when I left my family and began a new life in the city. I was happy, content, and at peace with my decision, until a stranger entered my life."  
"Jules. I never meant to ...".  
"I'm not TALKING about YOU, Bruce. I'm talking about Loki!", whispering harshly.  
Bruce's eyes widen.  
"I don't know what is happening to me. But I've had this terrible feeling, this innate feeling, that there's more secrets lying within, and I don't WANT to know. I want it to all STOP!" My breathing is heavier and laden in fear. "I'm afraid, Bruce. I ran away from everything I knew and love, just to escape ME! Myself! I was afraid my ...my abilities would someday harm those I care about the most. I'm terrified!"  
"Your memories have returned?", he says softly.  
"What?"  
I look at him, not understanding his statement. Yet he questions me as if he's aware of my abilites.  
"You remember who you are?"  
I think about his question, and it occurs to me that he's right. But why do I feel a sense of mistrust? I look at him sternly.  
"You question me as if you knew I would recall my memories.", quickly pulling my shirt over my head.  
He looks down, body stiff as a board, and his face expresses lies ...lie after lie.  
"No? You once said you couldn't remember your past ...".  
"What do you know about me?", I snarl, grabbing my pants.  
He straightens his stance and frowns. I immediately sense he's hiding his thoughts and emotions.  
"WHAT do you KNOW about me, Bruce?", angry and staring him down.  
"Nothing. Jules, c'mon now. You've experienced a lot of unusual stuff lately. It's jostled your memory ...".  
"Lately? No. Some I discovered in January. Not yesterday or last week! You know? It's all making greater sense ...my job at BlackOps? Forced. And to what. To keep an eye on me? My boyfriend and his buddies? Who do they work for?"  
"Jules! You got it ALL wrong! I've been protecting you from BlackOps! I know what they're capable of! I care about you very much! Always have! Please, Jules. Trust me!"  
"NO! YOU ...you ...got me to trust you, open up to you, and ...".  
As he approaches me to speak, I throw up my right hand to him to tell him to stop.  
"Don't come near me. Please."  
He stops his approach and puts up both his hands in the air.  
"I recalled EVERY moment of my life, with the exception of my last two years. Until now. Asgard? I recall. Saving the lives of my friends but killing five men to do so? I remember. And how about the first time we met over a book on Tesla? Or our first kiss in the bird house? Are those false memories? Or did my Doctor misdiagnose me when I asked him if I was crazy? Am I, Bruce? Am I crazy?!"  
"No. You're a sane woman." His eyes soften with his hands clenched in fists.  
"Why, Bruce? Why the lies?!"  
"Jules."  
"Why do I get this feeling you are working with the enemy? Like, you know, to spy on me or something rather? Why is that!", passing a dirty look to both he and a quiet Tony.  
"If you're referring to BlackOps, the answer is no."  
"You're so full of shit!", pulling up my jeans.  
"Really? Is that what you're reading from me?"  
As I button and zip the fly, I sense he's telling the truth. He really does care deeply for me. But at this point, I really don't give two shits. My newfound abilities, memories, and the return of my greatest fear of being caught by the Men in Black has come to fruition. I drop my head and fire a deep stare.  
"Get out of my way!"  
I brush past him, but he grabs my upper right arm with his right hand to stop me. I quickly turn to my right and release his grip with my left hand. This follows with his left hand squeezing my left wrist and I belt out a loud holler. A struggle ensues from his grasp with him yelling at me to focus.  
"Jules! Look at me!"  
I finally stop struggling but avoid sharing my eyes with him.  
"Look at me!"  
I kept my head slightly down and move my evil eyes up to his.  
"TRUST me on this. Yes. I knew. But it was NOT my place to tell you. Your past? That was up to you to figure out. And now that you remember, I want to HELP you. Please. Let me a part of ...".  
Anger builds up inside. A very, very familiar anger. I break from his grasp and back up quickly by floating backwards. I feel for the hand rail of the spiral stairs as he moves forward to stop me. Contact leads me to look up and rise to the door leading out to the roof, open it, and run forth. The blood races, my eyes are wide, and wail in hysterics. _'Run ...run!'_

"We have activity on the roof.", Migs reports to Controls. Right-handed, the index finger's posed erect above the trigger and his right eye peers thru the night vision scope. His left hand rests below the beautiful killer, caressing it kindly as if to calm the metal, springs, and levers within.  
"It's wabbit season, and I'm hunting wabbits, so be vewy, vewy quiet.", he whispers with the mark upon my right shoulder.

I run to the four-foot wall, behind the tiki bar, and see the front of his home. The side street is filled with black suburbans, but I don't see the connection to B.O.D. for I'm too worked up trying to decide my next move. Both Bruce and Tony enter the rooftop with Bruce quickly moving forth. He's panic-stricken, knowing Migs or any sniper is ready to take a shot.  
"Jules? I know you're very upset. You've experienced things no one can truly comprehend. But I can. I've seen shit I can't explain, worked alongside Beings and Gods with impeccable powers, and I carry a monster within that's killed hundreds of innocent men and women. No one trusts me. Not even BlackOps!"  
I lean back against the ledge of the wall. Music can be heard from a bar just a block away, the city's heart beats to the roar of traffic, and the air exhibits random odors from a nearby bakery. He slowly takes a step forward.  
"I'm tired. I'm so very tired of running to keep myself safe. I'm tired of living my life in questions. I'm tired of not knowing who I am. I'm just ...TIRED, Bruce!"  _So very tired._

"Controls. Give me volume on their convo.", Migs commands. Thru his scope he looks at the back of Bruce's head and then to my crying face.

Quiet salty tears streak down my flushed hot skin, but I keep it together.  
"You don't have to go through this alone. I will HELP you!"  
"BlackOps don't even want US together!", I scream.  
"I'll persuade them and change their view of you!"  
"NO! No more help! I can't go thru this anymore! The memories. They hurt, Bruce!"  
I climb up onto the ledge and stand, keeping balance with my arms out and shaking hands open.  
Bruce stops his approach, feeling a strong knot in his stomach, as I stand on the ledge. He reaches out with his right hand and has the eyes of defeat. Tony quickly scans the rooftops surrounding him, turning his head clockwise, and spots a sniper to our right.  
"Bruce?", he shouts, keeping his eye on Migs.  
I grab my head with both hands and pull my hair, squinting my eyes in fear.  
"Jules? Please, take my hand. Let's start over. We'll take baby steps together, one day at a time."  
"I remember how I nearly got Tony and Rachel killed, when I left for Asgard with Thor. I saved his people and then have my brain fried by their King!"  
"Jules ...".  
I lose it and scream.  
"BlackOps AND God don't TRUST me, Bruce! Why is that?! Did it EVER OCCUR to YOU or ANYONE ELSE just WHHYYYY!"  
He stands with large eyes and no answers to share. His silence brings me to soften my eyes with sorrow.  
"Bruce! We have company!", yells Tony.  
Bruce turns to Tony and notes the direction of his finger along his pant leg. He looks up and spots the sniper. His blood rages, his eyes water, and he quickly thinks of a way to save me.  
"Why couldn't you just TELL me, Bruce? Why did you lead me to believe I was crazy? My memories ...God, Bruce! WHY! WHY did you have to LIE to me?!"  
"Only to protect you, Jules. I promised I'd be honest. I HAVE been. Please get down? You're making me nervous.", he candidly smiles, taking another step forth with his right hand out.  
"You lied to me. All of this is a lie. Our relationship is a lie.", I say soberly thru my sniffles.  
"Our relationship is true! All I EVER said to you is true! Jules. Please. I can help you. Let me help. I promise to keep you safe.", taking another step forth.  
"As for promises ...", removing the ring, "...promises are meant to be broken! And you're a poster child for such!"  
I throw The Empress at his face, which his surprising dexterity catches it mid-air with the left hand, and the expression in his warm sugar brown eyes is enough to melt the ice glazed over my heart. He takes another step forward with his open right hand, reaching for me and exhibits forgiveness.  
"I'm tired, Bruce. So very tired. I don't want to run in my sleep. I don't want to run alive. You want me. The Men in Black want me. God killed me ...I'm tired. I'm done."  _Goodbye._  
My voice quivered and trailed to a whisper. Fear races thru his blood, desperate to hold me against his aching body and erase the unknown. I can feel his emotions coat my skin, almost screaming for me to stand down. My quiet tears turn to a crimson tide, as I squint and frown hard. He knows I'm about to leave him and tenses his body, ready for the leap. He pushes his legs forward as strong as they will allow, belts out a roar, and soars to grab my legs or feet. At that moment of his motion, I push off hard and float backwards several feet with him missing my left foot by inches.

Migs had his rifle aimed for my upper left shoulder and his right index finger lay ready to take the shot, as soon as I stood on the wall. But it was my words which relaxed his trigger finger and moved the scope to my face. He knew what I was about to do. As I leaped, he follows my face and decodes my emotions.

Bruce's expression of disbelief takes over his beautiful face as I allow gravity to embrace me. Screams ensue from his lips, ordering me to fly. I politely smile back with my eyes and allow my arms to ride in the falling wind. The bloody tears fall suspended along my face, hitching a ride on my loose hairs. Knowing the ground is near, I close my eyes and feel a searing heat scorch thru me in a split second. There's no pain. There's no sound. I want to open my eyes to look, just like I did when I fell backwards in the greenhouse, but I can't see. Darkness holds me well, black as black can be and blanketed in silence.

"She just took her life?!", the young man questions in surprise, for he expected a supernatural event such as flight.  
Migs keeps still, his aim sits over my right shoulder, and he notes my broken body. I landed on one of three armored vehicles and dent in the roof well. As I lay peacefully thru his scope, he removes himself from his rifle.  
"Stand down. We got the package.", Bingo says to the team and calls forth the medic truck.  
Bruce leans over the wall, completely besides himself in disbelief I'd take my life than make a run for it. He looks up to the orange hued sky and screams. His body transforms and he takes a leap, landing dead ahead of the mangled vehicle. The sidewalk breaks from his impact, sending dust and pieces of concrete flying about.  
"Do NOT shoot! Stand down!", Bingo orders.  
Bruce mulls over my still body, moves his right hand over me, and releases a barely audible low groan. It was him crying as he examines my injuries. Like the jaws of life, he peels the roof away. Carefully, he tears the metal like manually opening up a can of sardines.  
"Bruce! Bruce, I'm ordering you to stop! We have a medical team here! Let us take ...".  
Bruce knows if BlackOps takes me, there's no knowing what they'll do to my body, dead or alive. But if he takes me to a local hospital and has civilians repair me, it changes the dynamics. BlackOps won't touch me, not until I can walk my ass out the door. He lets out a terrific roar over my body and towards Bingo, tearing off the last piece, and lifts me and the roof up. With impeccable speed, he runs East and then North. Traffic halts and people scream. He tries his best not to jostle me much, but his gait is awkward and rough. As he reaches the ER door to Northwestern Medical, he causes three of the four smoking doctors to run back inside. The remaining resident Doctor stands in awe, watching the green giant as he lowers the roof.  
"Save her.", he orders, followed with a low whine.  
The resident drops his cigarette, stomps it, and puts out his hands.  
"Let me get my team!", running back inside.  
His hand gently nudges my right arm, hoping I'd react and open my eyes. My lips are not as pink, my face pale, and he can't see my chest move. A group of five doctors and nurses arrive with a flat board and a wheeled bed. Meticulously they work together, removing my body. The resident looks at the green monster.  
"How high was she?"  
"Fifty feet."  
"We're going to do what we can. She's still alive.", then running inside to catch up.  
He squats and stares at the street with bittersweet memories chasing his sorrows away. No sooner he does, Tony lowers from above in his armored suit.  
"She's going to pull thru. C'mon. Let's get back to my place and get you some clothes."

Once again, I'm alone. So very alone. No voice to be heard. Not even my body to be seen or my heart beat to indicate life. This is what I wanted all along, isn't it? Freedom from misery, questions, and loneliness. This is how my life at sixteen, leaping off the ledge of NORPAC Hill, should've ended as. Yet, I feel as if I exist in some shape or form.  
Where is the white light?  
Where are the angels to guide me to the afterlife?  
Pure loneliness and a deafening silence fills the void. It's worse than life itself.  
Much, much worse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This ends One In The Same: Beautiful Stranger. I will be taking time off for the holidays and return with the next book, One In The Same: Of Poppies and Stone.  
> What to expect: Jules experiences a rebirth, all thanks to Loki, and is forced by the All-Father to live on Asgard. Odin has a hunch Jules is a danger to The Nines and keeping her close is a better option than on Midgard. Out of desperation to be with Bruce, she finds herself "dreamscaping" to Earth in her dreams. Thor refuses to "babysit" her and orders Loki to do so, which he is initially unwilling. However, her "dreamscape" to Jotunnheimr changes his view of her and sets out to win her heart. Will Loki succeed to sway her, or will her heart remain strong for Bruce?


End file.
